


King Arthur's Bed Partners

by MsPercival



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arwen - Freeform, Camelot, Canon Era, F/M, Love, Marriage, Oral Sex, Partner Betrayal, Past Infidelity, Pining, Sexual Content, Virginity, Wedding Night, king arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4632054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPercival/pseuds/MsPercival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A devastated King Arthur banishes his beloved fiancée, Guinevere, from Camelot after she cheats on him with Sir Lancelot. Still struggling with the betrayal, Arthur becomes engaged to Princess Mithian of Nemeth, hoping their marriage will solidify an alliance between their two kingdoms and end their decades-old dispute over lands in Gedref. But is Arthur ready to share another woman’s bed and open his heart again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Princess Mithian's Offer

_A/N: Welcome to my second longer, multi-chapter_ Merlin _story called_ King Arthur's Bed Partners _. This story takes place during season four of BBC's_ Merlin _, episodes eleven through thirteen. I always wondered what happened behind closed doors between Princess Mithian and King Arthur during their brief engagement. Here's my version of what transpired! I spend a lot of time thinking about the characters' lives behind the scenes, those moments that were never revealed on film. I adore backstories. And when I write, my favorite thing to do is to peek into the bedrooms and private lives of the characters. That's how my mind works! Therefore, this tale will contain plenty of sex and some adult language!_

_The whole story will be just over ten chapters long, a total of 20k-ish words, give or take. I plan to update weekly._

_In addition, I do not own_ Merlin _in any way other than in my heart. Small parts of dialog in this story are taken directly from the script of_ Merlin _, so credit to the writers for their wonderful work._

_Thank you so much for reading, and please feel free to PM me with any questions or comments. Or, if you'd like, go ahead and leave a review. Onward!_

**King Arthur's Bed Partners**

Chapter One – Princess Mithian's Offer

"Where did everything go wrong?" King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot whispered to himself in the dead of night as he lay in his bed. Alone. Fitting, since his heart ached with loneliness more than ever these days.

As expected, the only answer to his rhetorical inquiry was a deafening, painful silence.

Staring up at the high ceiling of his bedchamber, his hands resting behind his head, the king thought back to earlier in the day when he'd picnicked with the vivacious Princess Mithian. Not only was the royal princess a dark-haired beauty, she was witty and a fine conversationalist. Even though she tried to put Arthur at ease during their interactions, the king found himself completely awkward around this charming woman from the first moment she arrived at the castle of Camelot.

That morning, Arthur's manservant, Merlin, had come along to the wooded and scenic picnic location to help set up. Feeling edgy and nervous, Arthur had made a joke of having Merlin set up the blankets, pillows, and food in several different locations before selecting a comfortable spot. Once everything was arranged to Arthur's satisfaction, Merlin slunk away with a scowl on his face and sat beneath a tree a good distance away. Arthur knew why Merlin appeared so forlorn, but he did his best to ignore the man who was both his servant and friend.

After enjoying some food and spiced wine (perhaps a drop too much wine), Arthur relaxed around Mithian. He opened his mouth to tell an amusing joke, but instead, a loud, deep belch burst out of the king's mouth. Arthur sat there in shock – he'd belched like a horrid pig, right in the woman's face! Just as he thought he might die of humiliation, Mithian let out a loud and hearty burp in return. The two of them laughed, and the awkwardness vanished. The remainder of the morning was enjoyable and fun.

Yet even if Arthur had been miserable with the woman, even if she looked like a bloated mountain troll, it didn't matter, because she was to be King Arthur's bride. No matter how Arthur felt, he would marry this woman. Their union would secure an alliance between Camelot and Mithian's kingdom of Nemeth. Once King Arthur and Princess Mithian wed, their two kingdoms' age-old dispute over the lands in Gedref would cease, and any lingering hostilities between Camelot and Nemeth would be put to rest. _That_ was important – the fact that Arthur's heart still ached for his banished former love and fiancée, Guinevere, didn't matter at all. When it came to marriage, love – or lack of it – was of no consequence.

However, the previous afternoon, a surly Merlin disagreed with this line of thinking and had told the king so – Merlin argued that _all_ marriages should be for love, including royal marriages. Merlin had then been so bold to state that Arthur was moving on too "soon," and insisted the king was still in love with Guinevere.

"You still love her," Merlin declared with defiance.

While true, those words infuriated Arthur. After all, Guinevere had broken Arthur's heart.

On the eve of Arthur and Guinevere's wedding, Guinevere had kissed Sir Lancelot. It hadn't been an innocent peck, either; it was a full-on passionate kiss. And if Arthur hadn't walked in on his knight and bride-to-be kissing and caressing one another in a dark corner of the Council Chamber, he was convinced the two would have ended up in bed together. Even now, the notion made Arthur's stomach churn with jealousy and rage.

And the sound! That had been the worst of it. When Arthur heard Guinevere's contented sigh as her lips were locked with Lancelot's, that was what had done Arthur in. Arthur had gone from horrified to madman in an instant, and had drawn his sword. Blazing with fury, Arthur charged Lancelot, but Guinevere stepped between the two men. There she stood, Arthur's bride-to-be, tears in her eyes and desperation in her gaze.

But all the desperate gazes and apologies in the world were not enough. Guinevere's betrayal could never be undone.

 _That_ is why the king banished Guinevere from the kingdom of Camelot. Because after her promises of love and devotion, she had strayed. She had broken her solemn vow to Arthur to remain true. How could he ever trust Guinevere again? How could he even look at her? She'd shredded his heart with her selfish and deplorable actions. It would have been less painful if she'd just run him through. How could Merlin fail to see that?

So yesterday afternoon, instead of walking away calmly from his devoted friend and manservant, Arthur stomped toward Merlin and glared at him, seething.

"You ever say anything like that again, if you ever mention _her_ name again, I swear you'll join her in exile forever!" Arthur had threatened before storming off.

And he _would_ exile Merlin, too, if it came down to that. The king didn't need anyone else torturing him about his lingering feelings for Guinevere. Arthur tortured himself enough each and every damn day. And now, he had the words "You still love her" running through his head day in, day out. Damn that Merlin!

Disturbed by his thoughts of the previous day and still frustrated by Merlin's keen observation, Arthur twisted around in his bed. He landed on his side, now facing the pale moonlight spilling in through the mullioned window.

 _This isn't so bad,_ Arthur tried to convince himself as he gazed out at the half-moon. _Mithian is kind and beautiful._ After all, the princess had gently cleaned the soup he'd slopped all over the front of his chainmail during the feast to honor her arrival. And when he'd held her hand too long while bidding her a good night the previous evening, she'd been quite gracious about his blunder. That was a good thing, because he seemed to make endless silly mistakes around her. What did that mean? Why was he such a nervous clod in the woman's presence? Perhaps it _did_ mean he felt something for the princess.

The king sat up and sighed. Yes, the princess was sweet and gentle, yet her warm brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Despite her light build, there was also an air of strength about her that was difficult to define. And she had boldly told Arthur she thought he was a handsome man and seemed to like him well enough. He could get used to her. No, he _would_ get used to her. Marrying her was the right thing to do. Kings often married women they hated for political reasons, or to secure alliances and land, and Arthur didn't hate Mithian. He rather liked the woman. Perhaps he should be grateful and stop feeling sorry for himself.

However, with so much on his mind, it was clear Arthur wasn't about to fall asleep any time soon. He stood and lit the bedside candelabra, then dressed. Perhaps a brisk nighttime walk in the refreshing evening air would wear him out and help him find sleep.

Yet as he fastened the clasp of his cloak, he heard light footsteps and some rustling sounds near his door. He turned and saw someone had slid a note into his chamber, a peculiar occurrence at such a late hour. Curious, he strode to the door and picked up the folded parchment from the floor. He couldn't determine whose seal secured the note, but he popped open the wax and read. When he finished the last word, he dropped into his chair at the dining table. Then he read the note again. And again. And he felt panicked.

"This is what Mithian wants," he whispered, folding up the parchment after having read the careful, neat handwriting a good ten times. Regardless, he read the note yet again.

_My Lord,_

_I hope you are well this evening. I thoroughly enjoyed the feast last night and our picnic together this morning. And I have a good feeling about our hunt tomorrow. So you're aware, I happen to be an excellent shot. Shall we wager which one of us will bring home the largest animal? I warn you, I could bring down a fleeing hare with my accuracy!_

_All right, I should stop making jokes and get to the point. What I would really like is for you to meet me in my bedchamber. Tonight. I understand we're to be married in two weeks, but I'd strongly prefer we have a conjugal visit before our actual wedding night. I don't know about you, but with so much wedding-day pressure, I want one less thing to be nervous about. No one need ever know about this - it would be something just between us. As far as anyone else is concerned, our wedding night will be our first time together._

_In any case, I find you very handsome, Arthur, and I really like you. Who knows? Perhaps one day we will love one another, and this might be the first step toward that. And after all, we'll have to lie with one another eventually. Why not now? Though I must warn you in advance I am not very experienced with men, but I am eager to learn. With you._

_I have carried on long enough. The last thing I want to say is that this idea makes me both nervous and excited, but I do hope you'll come to me this evening. If you're agreeable, please knock on my chamber door three times so I will know it is you._

_Yours,_   
_Mithian_

_P.S. - I hope you don't find this request too bold and forward. Please believe me when I say I have never done anything like this before._

_And one last thing: Could you please burn this note after you've read it? I don't want it to fall into the wrong hands. That could be quite embarrassing!_

His underarms damp and his heart racing, Arthur folded up the note again and placed it on the table. He stared at the parchment as if it held a poisonous viper, ready to strike. If Mithian knew Arthur was still an inexperienced virgin, she'd probably laugh at him. That was an emasculating thought.

Arthur blew out a long, loud sigh. He saw three choices: remain locked in his quarters, flee, or go to Mithian. And he had no idea which option to choose.

_To be continued..._


	2. Sir Gwaine's Assistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Welcome to chapter two! During this chapter, instead of considering Mithian's offer, Arthur will reflect on a special evening with Guinevere, and he recalls a long, embarrassing discussion with Sir Gwaine. Again, please keep in mind this story is rated "M" for a reason, and while this chapter does contain too much sex, other chapters will. Just a warning!

Chapter Two – Sir Gwaine's Assistance

Instead of pondering Mithian's offer of sex, Arthur's thoughts turned to Guinevere, as they often did during periods of tumult. A part of Arthur hated her for not being there with him right now, while another part was satisfied with her banishment. But how could he ever forget his former fiancée, when he still all but tasted the sweet, soft skin of her breast in his mouth? How could he soldier on if he never stopped wanting her?

When Arthur and Guinevere had been a couple, from the very start, the two had promised they'd lose their virginities to each other. Lord knows Arthur had craved sex so much his bollocks ached, and the waiting felt as if it was going to kill him at times, but he knew how important it was for Guinevere to wait until marriage before they were joined. Since Arthur understood Guinevere's feelings were more important than the whims of his cock, he agreed they'd wait.

However, three months ago, after a great deal of discussion, he and Guinevere decided they'd try to please each other orally. Arthur recalled feeling like the luckiest man alive that day. And as long as he lived, he would never, ever forget that night he and Guinevere spent in his bed. His thoughts drifted back to that memorable evening. And some of those memories were inextricably linked with his knight, Sir Gwaine, too.

XXXX

Well past the middle of the night, Arthur had sneaked Guinevere into his bedchamber during the guard change and no one had seen her. Arthur had been smart enough to send Merlin on an out-of-town wine-purchasing mission, an assignment that would keep the nosy manservant away until the next day. The last thing the king needed was his servant walking in on him in a compromising position with Guinevere. After years of service, how was it possible that Merlin constantly forgot to knock? Arthur knew Merlin always meant well, but sometimes, Merlin's irksome meddling was too much to bear. King Arthur wouldn't trade the loyal and attentive Merlin for the world, but a break now and again from his antics was nice.

However, now standing in his bedchamber – faced with the reality of what he was about to do – nerves overtook Arthur, but Guinevere trembled. Arthur told her they could wait if she wasn't ready, but she insisted that she was.

"Can I pleasure you first?" asked Arthur shyly, taking Guinevere by the hand and leading her to his sumptuous bed. "You can always change your mind when it's my turn."

She shook her head. "I won't change my mind. We talked about this and I'm ready."

"All right. Make yourself comfortable. I'll pour us some mead."

While pouring the tankards, Arthur reviewed Sir Gwaine's detailed instructions about how to orally please women. That discussion with Gwaine had been one of the most embarrassing moments of the king's life, but Arthur knew he needed advice from an expert if he had any hope of not looking like a complete fool with Guinevere. Gwaine was considered somewhat of an authority when it came to women; it was well-known the handsome knight of Camelot enjoyed the intimate company of a variety of ladies. Frequently. And as rumor had it, quite vigorously.

Of course, Gwaine had been more than happy to go on a private walk in the woods on a damp and dreary evening and school Arthur in the finer points of performing oral sex on women. Gwaine spoke for over an hour. Without a single break. There had been much talk of tongues, thumbs, licking, setting a good pace, and so forth. And Gwaine had even paused to draw a highly detailed picture of a woman's private anatomy in the dirt with his sword. _That_ was a sight Arthur would never forget. Yet even with all the details and Gwaine's racy suggestions, Arthur still had one burning question.

"All right, you're going to think I'm a fool, Gwaine, but how will I be sure Guinevere's enjoyed it?"

"How will you know if she's come?" asked Gwaine plainly, as the two men strolled along.

Arthur groaned with frustration and embarrassment. "You're not about to make things easy on me are you? Yes, that is what I'm asking."

"In all your time together, have you ever tried to give the woman an orgasm in other ways? Come on, you must have."

"I would rather face a band of angry Saxons than have this conversation," Arthur muttered under his breath. "Yes, Gwaine, I tried, but I'm not sure if it actually worked."

Gwaine glanced at Arthur, but wandered forth at a slow pace. "You tried with your fingers, then? What did you do?"

Hearing this inquiry, Arthur's face flushed a deep red. "Is it imperative that you know each and every detail?"

"Not every detail. But if you need my help…"

"Fine, Gwaine," moaned Arthur, running his hands through his blond hair. "But I swear, you can never tell anyone about this conversation as long as you live. Ever."

A light chuckle escaped the knight's lips. "I'm not about to divulge the fact you fingered your fiancée before your wedding, so let's not worry about that. I actually commend you for it. No woman should walk around unsatisfied."

Arthur cringed. "If I wasn't so desperate for advice, we'd be back in the castle already." The king couldn't meet Gwaine's eye, but he told his story.

"A couple of weeks ago, Guinevere and I shared supper at her cottage. We drank far too much mead and ate too little food. Before I knew it, I had her backed up against the wall, kissing her, and I had her skirts bunched up around her waist. I reached between her legs and touched her. I just kept moving my fingers in little circles and she seemed to enjoy it. She was, ah, aroused. Wet, I mean. After a few minutes of that, I unlaced her top and kissed her breasts and neck while I kept moving my fingers between her legs. She rubbed up against me, then she shook and gasped, loud. I kissed her nipples and they were hard…" Arthur's ended his story abruptly and stopped walking. "Please tell me that's enough."

Gwaine motioned for Arthur to walk again. "Did she scream or yell out your name at the end?"

Arthur considered his answer before speaking. "Scream? No. It was more like an impassioned grunt."

Gwaine stumbled and doubled over with laughter, his shaggy, dark hair falling into his eyes. He waited for the wave of cackling to pass before he drew himself upright and faced the king.

"I don't mean to laugh, but 'an impassioned grunt?'" He chuckled again. "All right, here's the truth: there's no absolute way to know if your woman's come or not. Usually, but not always, there's a good deal of moaning and clawing going on when women get excited. However, the ladies can fake it, and pretty convincingly."

"Then what's a man to do?" asked Arthur, more exasperated than ever, walking forth again.

"First, you wait for her to show a lot of enthusiasm. Shallow breathing, moaning, sighing, trembling…if a woman's doing those things, those are good signs. As a matter of fact, the more vocal she is, the better. And as you do your thing, pause sometimes to ask how she likes it."

Arthur cast Gwaine an incredulous glance. "Stop and ask right in the middle? I should come right out and say, 'Guinevere, do you like this?'" He scowled and plucked a few dead, brown leaves off a low-hanging branch, crushing them between his fingers, allowing the powdery fragments to fall. "That doesn't sound very reasonable."

"Why not?" asked Gwaine. "Don't you want to know if she's enjoying it? I find it's best to be direct. My women have never complained."

Tossing up his hands in surrender, Arthur said, "Fine, fine, stop and ask. You'd know better than I. I defer to your wisdom and expertise."

"Also," added Gwaine, "you should compliment her. Tell Guinevere she looks beautiful, she tastes amazing, and so forth. Women are always worried what we'll think of their delicate parts. As if we'd somehow think they're vile or ugly. Crazy, I know."

"How do you keep all this straight? This is an awful lot to remember," lamented Arthur.

"And there's more!" said Gwaine cheerfully while Arthur winced. "You need to make sure you lick hard and fast. As she gets more excited, you'll feel everything tighten up. And when she comes, you can feel it. Her sex will sort of pulse against your tongue..."

Guinevere’s words of: “Arthur? Are you all right?” brought the king back to the reality of his bedchamber. He spun around with the full tankards in hand – slopping several drops of mead onto the floor as he turned – and found Guinevere stretched out his bed, clad only in a lightweight, ivory-colored chemise. Her long, dark curls hung loose and her smooth, brown skin stood out against the light fabric of her sheer garment.

“You are a truly gorgeous woman,” said Arthur, his eyes taking in Guinevere’s alluring form as he moved toward the bed with the beverages. “Let’s get a little drunk first, shall we?” He held out a tankard toward her.

She accepted the proffered drink and smiled. “An excellent idea.” She tipped the tankard toward Arthur as he took a seat on the bed. “To new experiences?”

He kicked off his boots and inched closer to Guinevere. “To new experiences,” said Arthur, tapping his vessel against hers.


	3. The Memories of Guinevere Carry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Welcome to chapter three! A helpful reviewer was kind enough to point out that my flashback within a flashback in the previous chapter was a little jarring and unclear, so to make it clearer, I moved a paragraph from this chapter to that one. If you're reading as this is posted, you might want to take a quick glimpse at chapter two before moving onto this one.
> 
> Fair warning, this chapter contains a fair amount of smut, so proceed with caution. And of course, thank you for continuing to read.

Chapter Three – The Memories of Guinevere Carry On

Sitting in bed, Arthur and Guinevere kissed and touched and drank until the wine pitcher was empty of mead. Arthur noted Guinevere appeared a little wobbly while sitting up. Then again, he wasn't entirely steady himself. But perhaps being somewhat intoxicated would help matters. The mead had dulled the sharp edge of Arthur's anxiety, and he hoped Guinevere felt a little more at ease, too.

After having licked the remnants of the final drops of sweet mead from her lips, Guinevere leaned back against the soft bed pillows and crooked her finger at Arthur. "Come to me," she whispered, her cheeks flushed, dark curls fanned out behind her.

Arthur complied and crawled up the bed. He lay on his side, propped on his bent elbow. "I'm here," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from Guinevere's cheek. She took his hand and pressed a light kiss to his fingertips, then turned onto her side to face him.

"I want to please you first," she announced, her voice strong and decisive. "Right now, while I still have the nerve."

Arthur hadn't expected this. At all. He assumed Guinevere would be too nervous to try and please him on this night. "Are you certain?"

With a light and playful shove, Guinevere urged Arthur onto his back. "Very," she whispered, as she worked free the leather laces of his trousers and had discarded the garment before the king could utter a word. She hooked her fingers into the very top of Arthur's drawers, but paused.

"I'm afraid I'll look foolish doing this," confessed Guinevere. "Promise me you'll tell me if you don't like it."

Arthur let out a soft chuckle. "My cock is about to be in your mouth. If anyone will look or sound foolish, it's I." He lifted his head off the pillow. "You don't have to do this. I swear I won't be angry or disappointed."

"No, I want to do this," said Guinevere. "Very much so. Now, lie back will you?"

Complying with Guinevere's request, Arthur lay back and felt Guinevere tug off his drawers with gentle hands. Filled with anticipation and desire, he let out a long breath and gazed down at her. Positioned on her hands and knees between his legs, she admired his cock, which was already hard at the thought of what she was about to do.

However, like most men, Arthur experienced a moment of intense concern about what Guinevere might think of his erection. Was it large enough? Arthur knew he was a good size; he'd seen other knights changing clothes before, and by comparison, his size was respectable. But respectable enough? After all, the massive Sir Percival had a huge cock which matched his huge build. Not that Arthur stared at Percival, but the damn thing was impossible to miss when the men changed in the armory. Sometimes, Gwaine would joke that "Percival's privates need their own cape and sword." Percival, who was on the shy side, would turn bright red.

However, at the moment, Arthur wished he was that well-endowed.

But Guinevere seemed perfectly happy with Arthur's cock. "It's pretty," she said with a nervous giggle, admiring his length while she stroked it tentatively. "Quite pretty. I like how it's smooth and hard at the same time."

"No man wants to hear his sacred cock's pretty…" Arthur started in, but finished with a loud gasp when Guinevere leaned down and drew his erection into her mouth. This was like nothing Arthur had ever felt before. On the occasions he touched himself, he enjoyed it well enough. And from time to time, Guinevere had eased her hands into his trousers and stroked his hardness briefly, which had been nice. But this sensation was different in every respect. Glorious. Blissful, if he was being honest. He burned hot with desire and need as Guinevere's warm, insistent mouth worked his shaft. As she bobbed her head up and down – licking and sucking while her tongue savored him – Arthur wanted to thank her, to tell her she was beautiful and perfect, but he could do nothing more than grunt and sigh. He tangled his hands into her hair, twisting the long curls around his fingers.

"Damn, woman," he managed to groan. "You're killing me."

But Guinevere never stopped worshipping his cock with long, hard, greedy sucks. And when she moaned as she bobbed her head up-and-down between Arthur's legs, he felt the vibration against his arousal, and Arthur pressed his lips together so he didn't shout out his approval. He'd already been loud enough with his grunts and sighs.

It seemed impossible that she'd never done this before, because she was so, so good at it. Yet Arthur knew Guinevere wouldn't lie about something like that; if she said she had never pleased a man before, then she hadn't. It wasn't in her nature to be deceitful. However, it _was_ in her nature to be giving and loving, and that's precisely what she was doing.

And that's when Arthur recognized it: the dull but pleasing ache of impending climax starting in his groin. In his excitement, he bucked his hips and breathed as fast as if he'd been engaged in a battle to the death, but what a glorious death it would be. As Guinevere's tongue swirled around the crown of his cock, he knew he was going to come hard and there was no way to stop it.

"Gwen, Gwen," he warned, but it was too late. Arthur spilled his seed into Guinevere's mouth.

After Guinevere took a moment to lick Arthur clean, she sat up and smiled at him. "Don't you think of apologizing," she said. "I wanted to do that. I'd have turned away otherwise."

It took some time for Arthur to respond. He needed a few moments to recover from his erotic-high. "I think you've killed me," Arthur teased, breathless, his hands over his heart while he remained on his back recovering from his intense climax. "And how did you know exactly what to do? I'm impressed."

"One needs only to spend an hour with the kitchen maids to learn how to please a man," Guinevere answered with a teasing smirk. "I learned everything I needed to know by listening to them."

Arthur let out a sated sigh. "They need pay raises, those maids. Every last one of them."

"I'll inform them of the good news tomorrow," joked Guinevere.

Still, Arthur would never share he'd gone to Gwaine for sex advice. If Guinevere knew, she'd be mortified.

The king lifted his head and spotted his drawers lying next to his feet. He grabbed up his undergarments and slid into them. He then pulled Guinevere toward him and kissed her. "Your turn now, my love," he insisted, easing her down onto her back.

But one again, Guinevere had an expression of concern on her face.

"What is it, Guinevere?" asked Arthur, gently tugging up her shift. "How can I put you at ease?" Little did Guinevere know Arthur was a jumble of nerves himself. He settled himself between her knees and waited for her answer before he did anything else.

"I worry about how I'll look to you, and that I won't appeal to you. And I worry about how I'll sound while you're touching me," Guinevere told Arthur, staring up at the ceiling as she spoke. "Maybe you won't like doing it and you won't tell me…"

Arthur planted a gentle kiss to the inside of Guinevere's thigh as he urged her legs open wider. "I can't think of anything I've ever wanted to do more. The thought of doing this excites me more than I can explain. I just hope that you'll like it." He paused a moment. "You'll tell me if you don't, won't you?"

Guinevere glanced down at Arthur and gave a quick nod.

"Can I ask one more thing before I get started?" said Arthur, trailing light kisses up the inside of Guinevere's thigh, coming to a stop a bare inch away from her intimate parts. "That night in your cottage – that night I touched you – did you like it?" His cheeks reddened and he didn't wait for an answer. "What I want to ask is, did I give you pleasure that night?"

"Yes, you did."

 _Just spit it out Arthur; are you a man or aren't you_? he thought. "You, erm, had an orgasm, then?"

Now Guinevere was the one to turn red, an even brighter shade than Arthur had. "Yes. But I tried to stay quiet. I didn't feel ready to…let go."

"Tonight, I want you to let go, please," requested Arthur. "That's the only way I'll know if you like it. Will you do that for me?"

A nervous smile played on Guinevere's lips. "I promise I'll try."

"Good. Very good," mumbled Arthur, before he moved his mouth up that last inch, gently spread Guinevere open, and took that first long, luxurious lick of her core. Guinevere gasped, but Arthur kept going.

 _How could women ever think men don't like this?_ thought Arthur, as his tongue licked and circled Guinevere's cleft. He could think of nothing more erotic or delicious than having his face buried between Guinevere's legs, tasting her sweet saltiness.

With his hands now cupping Guinevere's arse and her legs spread open wide, Arthur stroked her center with his tongue hungrily, feeling her nub tighten with every divine swipe. Guinevere trembled and groaned, and Arthur kept up his work – licking and devouring – hoping to draw-out her pleasure as long as possible. The whole experience was so arousing, Arthur worried he might climax himself. Then he recalled one bit of Gwaine's sage advice and broke off for a moment.

"You taste so sweet," muttered Arthur from between Guinevere's legs. "Just tasting you makes me feel like I could come again."

He dove back in, sweeping his tongue up and down, up and down as Guinevere shuddered and gasped. Arthur then focused his caresses right on her sensitive spot, teasing the flesh with enthusiasm.

"Arthur," she moaned, "you're so good." She buried her hands in his hair and pulled at the roots, shivering and grinding her hips upward. "Please…"

Lapping at her wet warmth frenziedly now, Arthur reached up and squeezed Guinevere's tight nipples though her chemise. He rolled the taught peaks in between his thumb and forefinger, still torturing Guinevere with insistent licks. In that instant, Guinevere sucked in a sharp breath, then let out a scream of pleasure. Arthur felt her whole body shake, and he eased his tongue into the very opening of Guinevere's entrance. A moment or two later, he felt the warm tightening and pulsing of her orgasm.

Thrilled with his accomplishment and more aroused than ever, Arthur rose to his knees. Much to the king's surprise, Guinevere drew herself up on all fours after having taken a cleansing breath or two. She reached up and all but tore Arthur's tunic from his body, and yanked down his drawers. On hands and knees again, Guinevere drew Arthur's throbbing cock into her mouth. Just the sight of her, her head positioned between his legs and her firm arse pointed up into the air was enough to make him groan with pleasure. A few hard and fast sucks later, Arthur had climaxed again. Guinevere lay back and the king fell face-first onto the feather-stuffed mattress.

"Mercy," he mumbled in jest, his words muffled by the thick, crimson-colored bedclothes pressed against his face. He then turned his head to the side and faced a reclining Guinevere. "But I must ask – did you let go?"

Arthur and Guinevere dissolved into peals of laughter. It took them several minutes to compose themselves. After numerous rounds of giggling, Guinevere managed to speak again.

"Yes, I let go. Couldn't you tell?"

Arthur crawled up the bed and rested his head on the pillow next to Guinevere. "Maybe a little," declared the king with a slight smile upon his lips, nuzzling Guinevere's neck. "And I think we should practice this frequently for the next three months until our wedding. How often do you think I can sneak you in here before people notice? Every night?"

Guinevere slapped his shoulder in jest. "No, Arthur! I don't want to risk anyone finding out."

"Well, we have three hours before the next guard change," Arthur said suggestively, inching his hand up Guinevere's thigh until it rested between her legs. She gave a soft moan, and Arthur eased her folds apart once again and stroked Guinevere's heated, wet flesh with his thumb. "I have heard there's a way we can pleasure each other at the same time." He kept stroking. "Interested in giving that a try?"

"Yes," she panted.

Arthur rolled on top of Guinevere and pressed a brief but insistent kiss to her lips. "Better get started, then." He cupped Guinevere's breasts through her chemise, then brushed his thumbs lightly over her nipples. "You're more than I could ever have hoped for, my future queen..."


	4. One Step Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Thank you so much for reading a steamy chapter three. We now move onto chapter four, where we return to Arthur's bedchamber in the present. This chapter is a little shorter, and focuses on Arthur's mindset and how he comes to a decision about whether or not to visit Mithian's bedchamber.

**Chapter Four – One Step Forward**

"No!"

Arthur, still seated at the table in his dimly-lit chamber, slammed his fist against the polished wood.

"It's time to forget Guinevere. Time to be a man and move on, _not_ behave like some jilted woman," he admonished himself. And when had he begun talking to himself in the dark like a madman? Pathetic.

Mithian's note lay before him and he stared at it. A flash of anger seized him. Why had Mithian done this now? Why didn't she wait until the week after next, giveArthur more time to… do what? Ruminate about the past and agonize over the future? Obviously _he_ was the weak one, not _she_. This woman had more guts than a king, it turned out. While Arthur sat cowering in the dark, recalling his ex-fiancée, Mithan had made a bold offer.

And besides that, what was there for Arthur to decide? If he didn't go to the woman tonight, he'd surely have to go in two weeks when they married. What difference did it make, really? If nothing else, getting their awkward first time over with would ease most of the intense wedding-night performance pressures.

The king rose, crossed the room, and stared out of his window, mind reeling with worries. What if he couldn't get aroused for Mithian? If he couldn't perform, that would be grounds for the cancelation of the wedding. The princess could easily come up with an excuse to extract herself from the marriage promise if she believed Arthur was impotent. Or, even worse, she might tell everyone in the kingdom Arthur was incapable of pleasing a woman, and Arthur would rather die than endure such shame. Kings were expected to be potent and powerful, which he was, damn it! He was a robust and virile young man. But he'd long associated arousal and thoughts of sex with Guinevere. Would it be that easy to quiet those thoughts and focus on Mithian? Then again, he could think of Guinevere as he touched Mithian…

Arthur leaned his head against his window, the cool glass soothing him. How would that be fair to the poor woman? Taking her virginity as he thought of another. Yet he'd be losing his own virginity, too. Perhaps he should just do whatever needed to be done to get through this experience, then worry about all the details and consequences later. Yes. That sounded good. He'd just get it over with tonight.

With a deep sigh, Arthur disrobed and moved toward his washbasin to freshen up. He scrubbed down quickly, dried off, and picked out clean clothes. But as he tied his trouser laces, he stopped dead as a stray thought entered his mind: What if Mithian conceived? Arthur had never considered having children with any other woman besides his precious Guinevere. He'd often dreamed of watching Guinevere growing large with his child, and cradling their newborn in her arms. The notion of starting a family with a woman he hardly knew and didn't love nearly stole his breath. Burning bile rose up in his throat, but he swallowed it down.

 _Get used to this_ , Arthur told himself. _This isn't the life you asked for, and it may not be the one you wanted, but it's yours now._ _Men have endured far, far worse._

He scoffed at himself with disgust. What other man in the Five Kingdoms would whine or complain about bedding a beautiful princess? None. Arthur would force himself to be more like those men. To be more like Gwaine, who enjoyed women's bodies and didn't overthink his encounters. The king would go to bed with Mithian and enjoy every moment without a shred of guilt. The princess was a little on the slender side for his taste, but she had full lips and a nice rounded arse. She'd be great. Better than great. He'd pound into her and wouldn't stop until she screamed his name during her climax and begged for more.

Except he was lying to himself.

Arthur knew how to make _Guinevere_ beg for more. And he'd spent enough time begging her for more, that was certain. Until a few days before he'd banished Guinevere, she and Arthur had engaged in numerous clandestine meetings that resulted in every possible lustful act other than penetrative sex. The two had become attuned to one another's needs and desires. Somehow, their touches were both comforting and exciting; Arthur thought that was the perfect combination.

Fine, Arthur had known what to do with Guinevere, but with Mithian, would it be the same if his heart wasn't in it? Would the princess be able to tell?

 _I can fake it_ , Arthur told himself. He'd had been forced to feign confidence and bravery on many occasions when he didn't actually feel boldness in his heart. And this wasn't a life-or-death situation. It was sex, nothing more. Most of his knights didn't get worked-up over bedding women they didn't love. Why should he? It didn't matter how he felt. He'd pretend it was fine.

Before he knew it, it was time to see Mithian. He strode from his chamber back straight, chin lifted.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he told his guards before wandering a down the corridor, then up a flight of stairs to Mithian's guest chamber.

In what felt like two breaths later, Arthur arrived at his destination, his heart banging against his ribcage with hard and relentless thumps. And he came face-to-face with one of Mithian's knights. Why had he never taken a moment to consider the fact her chambers would be guarded? After all, it was customary for princesses to have guards. Arthur reminded himself he was the king, and others would find it acceptable for him to bed any woman he chose. He stood before the young knight.

"Good evening, sir," said Arthur, endeavoring to sound as assertive and sure of himself as possible. "I'm here to visit Princess Mithian. I trust you'll remain silent about my visitation, correct?" Arthur's held the knight's stare. Little did the knight realize Arthur wanted to vomit at the man's feet.

The knight gave a curt nod and stepped aside. "Of course, Your Highness. Have a good night."

If only.

Arthur knocked on the door three times, just as Mithian had requested in her note. Heart hammering away, he waited for an answer.


	5. I Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed! I've received some pretty spirited comments and messages about this story. Please do keep in mind I am an ArWen fan! However, the next two chapters may be a little difficult for ArWen fans. Keep that in mind if you choose to keep going.
> 
> Here, in chapter five, Arthur enters Mithian's bedchamber. We shall see what transpires!
> 
> In addition, I'd like to kindly mention that I am a real person, and before you shower me with hate over the next chapter or two… just keep that in mind, lol! I am trying to look at King Arthur's choices from a different perspective. I adore Arthur and Guinevere, don't forget that. I believe loving relationships can endure serious trials.

Chapter Five – I Like You

"It's open," called out Mithian.

Arthur took two deep breaths, praying a lungful of air would help him feel a little less dizzy, and he entered the chamber. Before daring to look at Mithian, he asked, "Shall I bolt the door?"

"Yes, please," she answered, a smile in her voice.

The king sealed and bolted the door, then looked up. Mithian sat well across the room at her vanity. She had a large hairbrush in her hand and her long brown hair hung down loose. She wore a white, lacy peignoir of some sort, decorated with flowers embroidered along the bust line and the bottom hem. She also wore a matching wrap. Little skin was exposed, but still, the sight before Arthur was provocative.

"You look quite beautiful," said Arthur, his voice wavering just a hint. He hoped Mithian didn't notice. He also hoped Mithian didn't notice the back of his tunic was soaked with sweat, which meant he probably smelled as ripe as a barrel of week-old fish at this point. Just great.

With a smile on her face, she placed down her hairbrush as she stood, and walked toward Arthur. "Thank you, sire. You look handsome, as always. But I confess, I wondered if you'd come."

Arthur tried for a lighthearted tone. "Here I am," he said, opening his arms wide. He stood there like an idiot and dropped his arms back to his sides. What the hell was he supposed to do next? Mithian rescued him by taking his hand and drawing him toward the plush chaise located near the foot of her canopied bed.

"Would you like a seat, my lord? I've brought some of Nemeth's famous strawberry wine for you to try. I'm certain you'll enjoy it. Did you know that Nemeth's well-known for its winemaking? I happen to like our fruit wines the best. Then again, grapes are a fruit, but I mean different fruits…"

Arthur was already seated, and Mithian plopped down beside him, a disconsolate look on her face. "I'm rambling," she said. "I tend to do that when I'm nervous, and I must confess, I am nervous."

Arthur let out a sigh. "So am I." He took a chance and placed a comforting hand on Mithian's arm, and she gazed up at him.

"I don't mean for this to turn into a session of endless questions, but do you mind if I ask you a few things?" Mithian asked Arthur. "I have so much on my mind."

"Ask away," said Arthur kindly. "I have a few questions, too. But you go first."

Mithian rose and went to her vanity to pour cups of wine. "I'll start out with the most embarrassing question first. Have you gone to bed with many women? I only ask because I have little experience and I fear you won't be satisfied with me." She walked back toward Arthur with the beverages. "I've known only one man, and that was a brief, one-time disaster a few years ago. He was one of my father's knights. I was in love with him, or so I thought, and he… wasn't in love with me." Mithian sat next to Arthur and handed him a cup, taking a healthy sip from her own. "I was young and foolish. We live and learn, I suppose."

The king felt a hot flame of embarrassment creep up from his lower belly into his face. He had assumed Mithian was a virgin when she'd informed him in her note that she had little sexual experience. But now, Arthur realized _he_ was less experienced than _she_! There was no way he could confess that without dying of humiliation. The king had thought if nothing else, he and the princess could share the experience of losing their virginities together, but with that gone, Arthur felt more disturbed than ever. Yet he didn't let on.

"I've known very few women intimately," Arthur lied casually. "I'm not interested in bedding a variety of ladies. And when we're married, I have no intention of taking on a mistress. That's just not how I am."

A look of sheer relief came across the princess's face. "That makes me happy to hear. And please know that I would be true to you always, my lord."

"I'm glad. I value loyalty and fidelity," said Arthur with an obvious edge to his voice. Too bad Guinevere hadn't valued such virtues.

"As do I." Mithian shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "But may I ask, are you angry or disappointed I'm not a virgin?"

Arthur knew he had no right to voice his disappointment. "No, I'm not. You cared for the man, and it was only once. It's fine."

Mithian and Arthur sat in quiet for a time, sipping wine before the princess made another inquiry.

"One last embarrassing question, then onto easier things," said Mithian with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Women hear stories about men and their… desires. Do you like things such as, um, smacking?" She winced. "Hitting? Choking? Anything like that?"

Arthur's eyes grew wide. "No. Absolutely not. I'd like to keep things gentle and relaxed. Causing a woman hurt or pain on purpose holds no appeal to me."

"Good. Good. That's a relief. One hears things. Not about you in particular, of course, but men in general." She gulped down the rest of her wine and deposited the cup on the small table next to the chaise.

"I understand your concerns, but please believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about."

Arthur feared silence, because in the quiet moments, his nerves kicked up, so he asked Mithian about her love of hunting. The two traded tales about their many hunting adventures, their wins, losses, and close calls. Mithian told Arthur the story of her first boar hunt, during which she'd avoided being gored by scrambling up a tree.

"I'm surprised your father allowed you to participate. Boar hunting's very dangerous. It even makes me nervous," said Arthur.

Mithian laughed. "My father had no idea. I bribed one of the knights to allow me to come along. When I set my mind to something, little can stop me."

The princess's bold behavior intrigued Arthur. "I'm impressed. And perhaps a little intimidated."

"Don't be too impressed," said Mithian with a light chuckle, resting her hand on Arthur's knee. "After the boar incident, the men never allowed me out on boar hunts again, no matter how much coin I offered. But any other animals are fair game, and since I'm a good shot, they usually invite me along."

The king glanced down at Mithian's hand covering his knee. He felt her give a soft squeeze, and decided if he was ever going to touch this woman, he should get started. He placed his wine cup on the floor, then reached out and slipped his finger beneath the thin shoulder strap of Mithian's peignoir. She flinched a little.

"I'm sorry," said Arthur, removing his hand. "You're not ready."

"No, I am. That was just a little unexpected." She took Arthur's hand and positioned it over her clothed breast, and he let out a sharp breath. Mithian gazed up at him. "Are you?"

He wasn't ready. And he might never be. Perhaps he should just leave before he made a fool of himself. "Of course."

Mithian covered Arthur's hand with hers and encouraged Arthur to give a good feel. She guided his hand around her breast and then moved his palm to the other. Arthur's breathing became shallow. He couldn't believe this was happening. In that instant, even with thoughts of Guinevere haunting the recesses of his mind, he grew powerfully hard. He knew he needed to act, and soon.

Mithian breathed a quiet sigh. "Sire, before this goes any further, I must know your favorite color."

Running both hands all over the thin fabric that covered Mithian's breasts, Arthur chuckled. "Crimson. Yours?"

"White."

As he moved his hands around Mithian's body, Arthur observed the woman's breasts were small, but nicely-rounded, and her nipples responded to Arthur's touch. Arthur forced himself to stay in the present, forced himself to banish Guinevere's memory as he touched the arousing woman before him. He slipped his hand into the fabric of the peignoir, cupped Mithian's bare breast, and leaned in to kiss her.

The princess responded with a moan, parting her lips to allow Arthur's tongue into her mouth. The two kissed, tongues tasting and circling. Arthur kept cupping and caressing Mithian's breasts while she eventually reached down and massaged his hardness through his trousers. In that instant, Arthur realized this was really going to happen; the king was about to take Princess Mithian to bed.

Not Guinevere.

Rather than allow his former fiancée's memory to impede his progress, Arthur lifted Mithian from the chaise into his arms, carried her over to the bed, and plopped her down playfully onto the soft, white blankets and furs.

"How chivalrous of you, sire," she teased.

Arthur now had a genuine smile on his face. The woman before him was sweet and fun. She might not be Guinevere, but she was a fine woman. He stripped off his tunic and leapt onto the bed. Arthur started to work free his trouser ties.

"May I do that?" asked Mithian. She sat upright and rested her hands against Arthur's broad, muscled chest, then ran her fingers through the short, light hair.

Arthur rose to his knees. "Feel free."

Mithian gazed at Arthur's face as she slowly freed the ties, one hole at a time, never breaking her intense stare. Once the ties were undone, Arthur pulled Mithian on top of him. Having her on top reminded him less of Guinevere. Mithian kissed him with enthusiasm, pressing her body against his.

"I like you, Arthur," she whispered, breaking off to urge down his trousers and drawers. "Do you like me?"

He liked Mithian. Quite a bit. And with the princess on top of him, her gaze heated with longing, it struck Arthur than Guinevere was gone for good. He would make this relationship with Mithian work, and enjoy himself in the process.

Arthur wrapped his arms around her. "I like you very much, Mithian. And I'm so glad you suggested this. I can't wait to have you." He tilted his face up and kissed her with as much fierce passion as he could muster.


	6. I Want More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Thank you for sticking with the story! I have been asked a few times if this is an Arwen story, and yes, it is! However, the road to love is rarely a smooth one. Often, it's bumpier than one can imagine.
> 
> That said, this chapter and the next WILL be difficult for Arwen fans. If you feel you can't read them, that's fine, but if you want a brief summary, go ahead and message me and I will send it to you. Just remember, you have been warned! Read at your own risk! ;)
> 
> That said, the next chapter or so are filled with sex, angst, and language.
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to review and read.

Chapter Six – I Want More

Princess Mithian's lithe body felt so pleasing on top of Arthur. Her hips rocked into his and she pressed her sex against his hard cock. Although she still wore her light peignoir – the wrap had somehow disappeared – Arthur could feel the woman's tight nipples brushing against his chest. The king was damn aroused. Arthur slipped his hands underneath Mithian's nightdress and cupped her arse.

"You skin is so smooth," he mumbled, then gave her neck a quick nibble. "You feel and smell divine." Arthur meant it.

Mithian responded by reaching between them and grasping Arthur's erection. Still atop the king, she glanced down at Arthur's cock. "It's big. And gorgeous. I can't wait to have it inside of me."

He took her face in his hands as she stroked him. "Whenever you're ready, I'm ready."

"I've been ready, sire."

Arthur then reached down and eased his fingers into Mithian's folds. After teasing her sensitive spot for a few moments, he slid a finger inside of her. Arthur had never done such a thing before, since Guinevere was a virgin and he hadn't wanted to break her barrier. But Mithian tightened around him and groaned. Arthur then pushed another finger into her and slid them in-and-out over and over. She was so tight and wet, it was near killing him. He couldn't wait to ease himself inside of her. Arthur was just about to stop and roll Mithian onto her back, but she shuddered and rode his fingers.

"Please, just a little more," she begged.

Arthur complied. He drove his fingers into her faster and deeper and Mithian cried out with each and every move. Her tightness finally clenched around him and she screamed his name. She rolled onto her back.

"That was amazing, Arthur," she said with a smile. "That's one way to relax a woman and prepare her to receive you."

He chuckled and eased himself on top of her. This was not the time to hesitate or second guess. "I'm glad."

"Can I touch you for a little while first?"

Arthur took Mithian's hand and placed it on his erection. "Go right ahead. Just not for too long. I want to last so I can see you come again. Watching you was incredible."

"I loved it, Arthur. But I'm still nervous," confessed the princess.

The king chose to be vulnerable. "Me, too, Mithian"

After a few gentle, pleasing strokes of Mithian's hand, Arthur knew he had to stop her before he climaxed. "That's a little too good," he said with a soft laugh.

She removed her hand and smiled up at him, her brown eyes bright with anticipation. "Whenever you're ready, sire, I'm yours for the taking." She hiked up her peignoir and dropped the shoulder straps so her breasts were out for the touching.

_Let me not think of Guinevere. Please_ , Arthur prayed, as he drove into Mithian harder than he'd meant to. She breathed out a sharp gasp.

"So sorry," moaned Arthur. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," answered Mithian, grabbing Arthur's arse and forcing him in deeper. "I want more."

Those words near finished him off. "I have plenty to give."

"It feels that way," cooed Mithian. "I love the way you fill me."

This talking during sexual activity was new for Arthur. Hell, sex – this type of sex – was new. Perhaps talking would help. He moved easily within Mithian, enjoying the tight feel of her velvety warmth squeezing him before he spoke.

"You're so damn tight." He couldn't hold back a groan. "Never felt anything sweeter…"

Mithian looked up at him, and Arthur felt as if her impassioned gaze bore into his very soul. The deep desire in her stare, the way she rotated her hips and clutched at his arse made him feel as if he was spiraling out of control. Mithian's body, her slick heat, felt indescribable.

"I think I could love you," she whispered, just before she eased her tongue into Arthur's mouth again.

And that's when the crushing wave of guilt overwhelmed Arthur. He didn't love Mithian and he didn't know if he ever could. She was sweet in bed, delicious and passionate, but thoughts and images of Guinevere came roaring back into Arthur's mind. He started to feel queasy and slowed his pace. He considered withdrawing from Mithian all together, but she clung to Arthur, grinding her pelvis against his while she shuddered.

"Don't slow down…don't stop. Gods, Arthur, you're making me come again…"

Arthur picked up his pace at Mithian's request. A moment later, Arthur heard her cries and felt the wave of Mithian's orgasm clench him, but even with a vision of a weeping Guinevere in his mind, his body took over and he drove into Mithian, over and over. He couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. The king felt as if he was about to come any second now as Mithian recovered from her climax, but he didn't. He knew what was holding him back but pushed those thoughts from his mind. What the hell was wrong with him? He continued to ram into the princess.

"Please, please," he begged. Arthur was begging for release in more ways than one, but Mithian didn't know that.

"Take what you want, Arthur. I'm yours."

"I have to slow down," he panted, easing the pace of his thrusting.

Mithian leaned up and kissed him. "I'm here for the night," she said with a flirty smile. "Stay inside me as long as you want."

After a few minutes of kissing and easy movements within Mithian, Arthur quickened the pace again. Perhaps if he pushed harder and faster, he could drive away the images of Guinevere. He needed to forget. Arthur wrapped his hands in Mithian's hair and yanked her head back.

"I need you to come again," he demanded. "I need you to say my name when you come."

Mithian leaned up and sank her teeth into Arthur's neck, leaving deep, red marks. "Then I suggest you fuck me harder."

With all the strength and passion he had, he rammed into her as hard and deeply as possible. Mithian dug her nails into the flesh of Arthur's back and dragged them down the sweat-slicked skin.

"Arthur!" she screamed, climaxing again.

"Gu-gods!" shouted out Arthur, withdrawing from Mithian and spilling his seed on the sheets. He'd almost done it. He'd nearly called out Guinevere's name at the height of his orgasm. He was grateful he hadn't.

Arthur rolled off of Mithian immediately. She turned and smiled at him.

"You were wonderful," she said, taking his hand and kissing it. "So passionate!"

_Tell her. Tell her she was wonderful, too. Because she was. You're just too fucked-up to admit it._ "You were wonderful, too." Arthur studied Mithian's expression. Her lips curved into the slightest of frowns. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," she answered quickly, dropping his hand and peering up at the ceiling. "I just wondered… I wondered why you didn't finish inside of me. I thought perhaps I did something wrong."

"No, it's not that. You were far more wonderful than I could have hoped." _Think, damn it, come up with some excuse!_ "I, ah, never asked you how you felt about children beforehand. I mean, you might want to wait awhile before you become a mother, and I didn't want to be presumptuous."

She turned her head toward Arthur and gave him a small smile. "I'm ready for children whenever they might come." Mithian reached out and stroked Arthur's damp hair. "But I would love it if they had your light locks and blue eyes."

The thought of Mithian carrying his babies, not Guinevere, made him feel short of breath again. Was he ever going to be normal? Could he ever accept that his future would be with the woman who lay next to him? The woman who said she could love him? The woman who had _not_ betrayed him with a kiss?

Arthur located his drawers, which were tangled up in the bedding, and slipped into them, followed by his trousers. "Excuse me for a moment. I need to use the privy."

The king left the room and nodded at the guard on the way out. Arthur entered the dark privy closet and took a relieving piss, chastising himself the entire time.

"Pull yourself together, King," he mumbled. "Figure out how to get your cock in line with your heart."

Arthur stood in the darkness for a moment before returning to Mithian. _What can help fix this?_ he wondered. An answer came to him out of nowhere: _Another good, long, hard fuck_.

He swallowed his guilt and walked back to the chamber.


	7. Over Before it's Begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen fans, you survived chapter six! Just one more short chapter with a little torture, and I promise, we shall move into new territory! Much of this story relates King Arthur’s struggle with what he’s done, but in the end, I hope you will see that true love and commitment conquers all. However, it doesn’t mean the path to enduring love is a simple one, or quick. People can make devastating choices, yet come back together in the end stronger than ever.

Chapter Seven – Over Before it's Begun

Entering Mithian's room once more, Arthur decided that he would take charge. On his way to the bed, he shucked off his clothing. "Care for another round?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. Arthur hopped onto the bed, settled himself on top of Mithian, and immersed himself in her tightness again.

"I was hoping we'd make love all night," she purred.

Arthur took Mithian one more time. As he filled the princess and thrust in and out of her, she complimented Arthur on what an incredible lover he was, and how much she loved his body.

But somehow, much to his horror, the king heard Guinevere's voice as Mithian spoke, and saw Guinevere's tear stained face instead of Mithian's. The sounds and image passed in an instant, but the episode frightened Arthur. So he no longer had to face the princess, Arthur pulled Mithian out of bed and bent her over its edge, taking her from behind. The woman gripped the sheets and cried out, her shattering orgasm propelling Arthur into another climax.

But even in the throes of orgasm, Arthur pulled out and spilled his seed onto the floor. He couldn't bring himself to finish off inside of Mithian; such an act might link them together in an irrevocable way. Aware of what Arthur had done, Mithian crawled into bed, disappointment in her eyes, and the hint of a tear.

"Sorry. I just…" Arthur remained standing, at a loss for words. "This is new to me. Don't take it personally. The thought of becoming a father at the moment… It's not a step I'm ready to take just yet. Soon, I'm sure."

"No harm done," assured the princess with what looked like a forced smile. "Whenever you feel ready, my lord." She gave a nervous cough. "I didn't think I'd feel this way about you is all. So close to you. It's taken me by surprise."

Hearing those kind and sincere words, Arthur needed to leave; he didn't deserve such kindness. Making such a hasty departure was rude and inconsiderate to poor Mithian, especially after she made such a heartfelt confession, but he desperately needed to be alone with his own thoughts for the short remainder of the night. He gathered up his clothing and dressed while he thought up a reasonable response.

"Mithian, I've enjoyed our evening more than you know, but I must retire to my quarters now. I have to be up quite early to help prepare for the Festival of Ostara Hunt. I'll see you for the hunt and we'll talk afterward, all right?"

Mithian's face fell. "Oh. I hoped you might spend the night." She waved her hand. "Never mind, I understand. Tomorrow after sunrise, then. I look forward to it."

"Yes. See you then." The king crossed the room and had his hand upon the door.

"Arthur?" called out Mithian. He turned to face her. "Are you sure I did nothing wrong?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her and his heart sank. The beautiful woman looked so damn vulnerable with the bedsheets pulled up to her chin and a wistful smile on her face, her hair in disarray from their tryst.

"Of course not. I can't imagine any man not desiring you." _Except me_ , he thought, _because I am a damn, ruined mess._ "You are a remarkable woman."

With those words, he stepped out into the corridor and heard a quiet, choked sob from inside of Mithian's chamber. He debated going back in and apologizing or offering her comfort in some way, but instead, he took his leave and hastened to his own quarters, not pausing to acknowledge anyone on the way.

After the hunt tomorrow, he'd have to tell Mithian their marriage was off. He had no idea how he could make her understand without causing tremendous hurt. She'd opened up to him in more ways than one, and now, he was about to completely shut her down. This beautiful, kind woman offered her body and heart to Arthur, and all he'd done was take advantage of her goodness.

Arthur burst into his room, slammed the door, and flung himself down on his bed. He knew ending his engagement to Mithian put the whole of Camelot at risk. It might cause extreme discord and animosity between the kingdoms of Camelot and Nemeth. War was even a possibility! Why the hell had he gone to her chambers? Why had he bedded her several times that night? Did he really think a few good fucks were enough to expunge Guinevere's memory from his heart and soul? They weren't. He'd learned that the hard way and had hurt a kind and generous woman in the process.

He was disgusted with himself.

But disgusted or no, he would tell Mithian the truth tomorrow. He would be honest and keep the explanation simple – he had loved another woman and thought he was over her, but he wasn't. And he was sorrier than he could express. But that wasn't enough. He'd taken too much from Mithian and given too little back. There had to be a way to make amends. He couldn't offer his heart, nor his love, but he _could_ offer one thing – land.

He hoped she would accept it, because the king had nothing else to give.


	8. Apology Not Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Welcome to chapter eight! We are just at the halfway point now. During this chapter, we will see Arthur and Mithian out on a hunt with the knights, and later, Arthur will meet with Mithian and tell the truth about Guinevere. 
> 
> We're at the halfway point now!

Chapter Eight – Apology Not Accepted

The following sunlit and cool morning, the Festival of Ostara Hunt in the Darkling Woods started off a little slow. Arthur and Mithian rode side-by-side for most of it, chatting and laughing, and the king's resolve to call off their engagement and send her home wavered. He thought back to his previous night with Mithian. The woman's body had felt so damn good. She was honest, smart, and passionate. If it hadn't been for the memories of Guinevere, he would have otherwise called the night a success. Perhaps he should reconsider things…

"Deer!" called out Sir Leon suddenly, interrupting Arthur's thoughts. Leon took aim, but shook his head, indicating he wasn't lined up for a good shot. "Sire, she's yours."

Arthur took aim with his crossbow and fired. Somehow, his shot missed the target by a wide margin, which he didn't understand. He peered at his weapon with confusion. Perhaps he'd selected a warped bow.

Princess Mithian chuckled. "I thought you were a good shot, my lord," she declared, firing at the sizable doe. "Ha! A gold sovereign says she's hit!"

The hunting party tracked the deer for a time. Both Arthur and Mithian dismounted, eyes scouring the ground and nearby foliage for signs of the struck doe. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur caught sight of sunlight reflecting off a small piece of metal which lay on the forest floor and approached the object. He took a knee and grasped the item. What he saw nearly stopped his heart. It was his Guinevere's engagement ring, secured on a leather tie. His vision blurred and voices sounded muffled and far away. Blood rushed through his ears and his heart hammered away. Arthur was vaguely aware that Mithian was calling out to him, but it took every ounce of his energy to not vomit or fall over from shock. The king stood with the ring in his hand and walked right by Mithan, a dazed look in his eyes.

"There'll be no more sport for today," announced Arthur, hiding the precious ring in his glove, stumbling back to his horse.

XXXX

Arthur had never been more grateful in his entire life to return to his chambers. He held himself together on the ride home from the hunt, claiming he felt ill. Mithian had asked him if he was all right, and he lied and said he had a terrible headache and needed rest. The moment the hunting party had returned to the castle, Arthur sprinted for his quarters where he remained, clutching Guinevere's ring to his chest.

Now more than ever, Arthur was certain he had to send Mithian home without honoring his commitment to marry her. Even though they'd shared a lovely evening together and he'd grown to care for her, it was unfair to trap her in a loveless marriage where she would forever be second best. He would talk to her in a few hours, once he'd calmed down and could think clearly again.

Arthur collapsed into his seat in front of his writing desk, squeezing Guinevere's ring into his palm. He missed the woman more than he could explain. Without her, he felt a terrible emptiness deep within his soul, a gaping hole no other would fill. Ever.

Guilt burned within him on so many levels. Sleeping with Mithian hadn't fixed a thing. The temporary comfort and warmth of being wanted again had made Arthur feel good for a moment, but those feelings were fleeting. Mithian had given Arthur a gift, and he was about to give her nothing but a sore heart.

And Mithian aside, what of Guinevere? Arthur had her engagement ring in his possession, the one he'd given her. He knew it meant she was still alive and out there, somewhere. He sensed it. Felt it in his very bones. But was she all right? Could she be hurt? If he ever saw Guinevere again, would she forgive him for going to bed with another woman? Would she ever want him again if she knew? Yes, Guinevere had kissed Lancelot, but according to her, it had gone no further. How would she feel when she learned Arthur was no longer a virgin?

"I'm sorry. So damn sorry," Arthur whispered to no one. And everyone.

XXXX

A few hours later, during a cool but bright spring afternoon, Arthur met with Mithian in a quiet spot in the castle gardens. She sat on a stone bench beneath a tall oak tree surrounded by witchhazel. He approached with a slight smile on his face, but Mithian was already tearful.

"I know what you're here to say," she said, fussing with her tan riding gloves, not meeting Arthur's eyes as he took a seat next to her. "You don't want me. I felt it last night, at the end. And this morning, after the hunt… I knew for sure." She sniffled and looked up. "But please do me the small favor of telling me why."

"Please let me begin by saying how sorry I am. If the circumstances were different, I would love to marry you. But the truth is that my heart belongs to another."

Mithian stiffened and glared at Arthur. "I see. But you told me there would be no other, that you didn't want a mistress. That was a lie, then? You wanted me as a wife and this other woman as a mistress? That was your plan?"

Arthur shook his head. "The woman I'm still in love with is gone and it's likely she'll never return. Please believe me when I say this, I thought I would be able to get over her. I tried. If there was ever a woman other than… the woman in question with whom I could fall in love, it would have been you."

"Ah. One night and you're done with me. You've already made up your mind and you didn't even give us a fair chance." Mithian's face flushed red and she scowled. "Instead, you distracted yourself with a nice night of fucking and because it wasn't good enough, you're dismissing me."

"No, it was incredible. _You're_ incredible…"

Mithian began to cry. "The things you said to me last night and how you touched me... You said I was beautiful and that you wanted me, that you couldn't wait to have me…"

"Those words were all true."

Mithian scoffed and peered down at the grass beneath her feet. "Sure they were."

Arthur stayed silent, waiting for Mithian to say more. He'd hurt her enough and was willing to accept any castigation the woman cared to mete out.

"You've been unfair. Deceitful, even." Mithian's voice grew loud and she stared at the king with extreme disapproval, brows drawn together and her eyes narrowed. "How would you like it if I'd done the same to you? The least you might have done was told me the truth and allow me to decide how or if I wanted to proceed. This nonsense about how you 'thought' you'd be able to get over this other woman is preposterous. When you came to my chamber last night, you were still in love with her and you _knew_ it. You should be ashamed of yourself, Arthur." Tears ran down her face.

"I am ashamed," he said in a weak whisper. He wanted to wipe away the woman's tears, wipe away the misery he'd caused, but he didn't. Arthur had no right to touch Mithian, to offer her comfort.

Taking deep, shaky breaths, the princess remained quiet for a few minutes until her tears of frustration and disappointment stopped. She pressed her lips together into a thin line, her brown eyes now dark with anger. She asked Arthur to rise.

"You've humiliated me and broken my heart," she declared, rising to her feet. "And this, my lord, is the least you deserve."

Mithian pulled off her right glove and gave Arthur a stunning backhand slap across the face. The force of the blow was so intense, Arthur's teeth cracked together and he staggered back a full step.

"I deserved that. And more," said the king, recovering from the harsh strike.

Mithian stormed up to him and jabbed her finger into his chest. "You're damn right you did! You call me to Camelot, offer marriage, bed me multiple times in one night, then claim you love another and dismiss me. I am humiliated and broken-hearted, you selfish king! Fuck you, Arthur Pendragon!"

She spun on her heel and strode off, head lifted high, her cream-colored cloak billowing out behind her.

Arthur stood in the gardens, nursing a sore jaw and a soul aching with guilt and shame.

What a damn mess he'd created.


	9. A Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On to chapter nine, which is a shorter one. We're done with the "slap heard around the world." Hey, Arthur broke Mithian's heart. He had it coming!
> 
> That said, thank you so much for taking the time to read and review. And if you're a lurker and not reviewing, I still appreciate the fact you're reading this story when there are so many other wonderful pieces of fanfiction out there.

**Chapter Nine – A Departure**

The next morning, early, Arthur rose to see off Princess Mithian and her entourage. After she'd slapped him in the gardens (his jaw still ached) and had given him a piece of her mind, she'd refused to speak to Arthur or even glance at him again. She took her meals in her chamber and her guards allowed no one in. One of Mithian's ladies had informed Arthur that the princess and her escort would leave in the morning, and that the princes "strongly preferred" that Arthur was not in attendance to say goodbye. But even with all that transpired, Arthur knew he had to face Mithian one last time, even if it was so she could slap and berate him in public.

Arthur stood at the bottom of the steps leading into the main square. Mithian swept right by him, ignoring his presence, her chin lifted in anger and defiance.

"Princess?" Arthur called out. She didn't turn, but slowed. "Forgive me."

She clenched her jaw and turned to face the king. "The time for words is _over_ , sire," said Mithian, her tone frosty.

Arthur went on to apologize once again and offer Mithian and her decedents all the disputed lands of Gedref. Mithian stood there in disbelief, questioning why on earth Arthur would give up his ancient claims.

"I have no desire for war," explained Arthur simply and honestly. "Or to grieve you more than I already have." He held out a scroll that contained the written agreement.

Mithian crossed her arms and stared at the scroll. "And if I refuse?"

"It's all I can offer. And I do so most humbly."

The princess reached out and swiped the scroll from Arthur's hands. "Tell me, who is it that trumps a princess? What great family is she from?"

"None," explained Arthur. "She's the daughter of a blacksmith."

Mithian stared at him with disbelief. "And for her, for this woman, you would risk your kingship, your kingdom?"

"I say this not to pain you, but because it's the truth: Without her, they're nothing to me."

"I see. I would give up my own kingdom to be so well loved." She sighed and gave a small, sad smile. "Perhaps I, too, shall be so lucky one day."

"No one deserves it more than you."

Mithian gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. "Farewell, Arthur Pendragon."

The king met her eyes for a brief moment. "Farewell, princess."

The princess's knight helped her up onto her white horse. The woman glanced down at Arthur, a trace of heartache and regret in her eyes. Mithian opened her mouth, and Arthur was certain she was about to speak, perhaps berate him again, but instead, she rode off into the morning sun.

Once Mithian and her entourage were out of sight, Arthur turned to Merlin. "Walk with me to my chambers."

Merlin complied, and the king and his manservant entered the bedchamber. Arthur started right in. He explained everything to Merlin, holding nothing back. Telling his friend and manservant how he'd had sex with Mithian was embarrassing, and he expected Merlin to judge or chastise him, but the man did not. Merlin simply listened.

Once his story was done, Arthur fell back against his bed. "Tell me I'm a complete fool, Merlin, to give up so much for a woman who betrayed me, for a woman I might never see again."

"You will see her again, sire," insisted Merlin, sounding absolutely certain. "You and Guinevere will find each other."

"How can you be so sure?"

"My intuition," insisted Merlin. "It's excellent.

"Anyway," Merlin continued, "as for being a fool, bedding Mithian was a poor idea, to say the least, but it was better for you to be honest with her and send her home rather than trap her in a ruse of a marriage. That would have been far worse. But I saw a lot of hurt in her eyes today…"

"Yes, thank you, Merlin, I know. I feel terrible about it." Arthur sat up again. "I appreciate your honesty and candor. That'll be all."

"Sire?"

" _What_ , Merlin?"

"You've been a royal prat, but you can set this right."

"Oh?" said Arthur with sarcasm, glaring at Merlin. "And how might I do that, precisely? Leave nothing out."

"For once, follow your heart. Not your sense of duty, not your lust…" Arthur groaned, but Merlin continued. "Do what your heart says."

"And if I don't know what that is?"

"I think you know. And you know Guinevere's still alive. I know it, too."

Arthur grew frustrated with Merlin's ramblings. "And how's that?"

"Guinevere is a woman of strength and courage. She's my friend and I…" Merlin's words trailed off. "I believe in her."

Arthur softened. "I believe in her, too."


	10. A Night in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Welcome to chapter ten, and thank you so much for reading! During this chapter, Arthur spends a night in the Darkling Woods searching for Guinevere, or for clues of her whereabouts.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews mean a great deal to me, and if you don't review, that's fine, too! Just having you along for the journey is enough.
> 
> Oh, and in chapter eleven, we will see Guinevere again. Finally!
> 
> And one last thing – this story is fourteen chapters long with an epilogue, so we have only five more weeks to go.

**Chapter Ten – A Night in the Woods**

The breeze of the cool, clear evening caressed Arthur's face as he roamed the woods on foot. Initially, he'd planned to take his horse so he could cover more ground, but decided against that, as going to the stables and saddling up would draw too much attention. It was easier for him to slip out of the castle under the cover of darkness, alone.

Every instinct told him Guinevere still lived. He had to find her. But how?

In his chainmail, Arthur jogged through the Darkling Woods, taking in his surroundings, which was difficult, considering the only light washing over the landscape came from the half-moon in the sky. Still, Arthur knew these woods well and navigated the paths with relative ease.

However, finding a new trace of Guinevere was another matter. Sir Perceval was an excellent tracker. If Arthur could enlist the strapping knight's help, he might find clues about Guinevere's whereabouts. But revealing his task to anyone was out of the question. That would involve confessing he was torn up over the fact he'd banished Guinevere, and his heart bled with misery over missing her. Arthur had experienced battle many times and faced terrifying foes, but the soul-shredding pain of losing Guinevere hurt the most. Though Arthur trusted Percival more than most of his knights, the king would not divulge his innermost feelings to the man. Arthur would find Guinevere without help.

Now rushing through the woods at a brisk jog, Arthur searched for any detail that might help – footprints, snapped branches, a shred of cloth, the scent of recently-burned wood – anything that might alert him to a fact a woman had traveled this way. But he found nothing. The forest was eerily silent, save his thumping footfalls.

Arthur halted his jog and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. _This is a fool's errand_ , he thought, sliding to the forest floor, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. If Morgana saw him now, she'd cackle with glee over the vision of the great King Arthur, half-weeping on the ground over a woman. Perhaps he deserved Morgana's enmity.

The king blinked back his tears. If loving Guinevere made him weak, so be it. He'd rather be a man who loved with his whole heart than be like his half-sister, High Priestess Morgana, evil and ice-cold, power-hungry and devoid of humanity or feeling. It was still difficult for Arthur to believe that the same blood ran through their veins.

Arthur recognized he wasn't about to find Guinevere tonight, yet he couldn't bring himself to return home. The woods was a peaceful place. Perhaps he'd remain here for a time and think.

He let out a long sigh, leaned back against the solid oak tree, and thought about Merlin's advice. Of course, Merlin had been right – Arthur should have forgiven Guinevere. Arthur should have been merciful and understanding. No one said he and Guinevere _had_ to get married the very next day, the day after she'd kissed Lancelot. They might have waited, delayed the wedding and tried to sort out their relationship. Or Arthur might have gone away for a time to gather his thoughts and cool down. But no, instead, boiling with anger over the betrayal, Arthur had sent Guinevere away. He had acted rashly.

He was an idiot.

But idiot or not, it was time for Arthur to own up to his awful mistake. With his uncle, Lord Agravaine, whispering in his ear about adultery, how Guinevere should be executed and so forth, Arthur hadn't been thinking clearly. All Arthur considered was his hurt pride, that Guinevere viewed Lancelot as more of a man, more desirable than Arthur.

Humiliated and miserable, his fragile sense of manhood called into question, Arthur had made a terrible decision by banishing his fiancée. What if he'd sent Guinevere to her death? The forest was no place for a woman, alone and without protection. She might be injured, sick, or… lying in a shallow grave. Arthur's heart raced at the thought of a pale and dead Guinevere buried in the earth. It was possible. Perhaps his sense about her being alive was all wrong.

Bile rose in his throat. What kind of man was he, and what kind of _king_ was he when his personal life was a disaster? He made mistakes at every turn. How could he effectively rule a kingdom when he made such terrible choices in his own life? If Guinevere lay dead, Arthur couldn't bear it.

"No," he whispered. She was all right. She had to be. The ring was a sign that she was still alive and out there somewhere, a signal that he was supposed to find her. As ridiculous as it sounded, when Arthur held the ring, he felt Guinevere's essence, her energy flowing through the small piece of metal and into his hand. If she was dead, surely the ring would wouldn't give off a tiny, almost indiscernible vibration, would it?

But that didn't matter. It wasn't as if he could discuss the ring with anyone, because the moment he mentioned the words "vibrating energy," everyone would assume magic was involved, and right now, Arthur did not need people questioning him, or looking at him as if he was a sorcerer.

Arthur leaned his head back against the tree and thought back to what would have been his wedding night with Guinevere. Not wanting to be alone with his thoughts that night, he'd called for late-evening training exercises in the forest.

"We must practice shooting and tracking in the dark," had been Arthur's lame excuse.

Arthur's loyal knights had come along without complaint and worked hard, as was typical of the committed men. Toward the end of the long night, Sir Leon put his hand on Arthur's shoulder and nodded, no more. _Did Leon understand heartache_? wondered Arthur. He didn't have the guts to ask his long-serving knight.

After hours and hours of training, Arthur called it a night. He returned to his quarters and lay in his bed until sunup, with visions of stripping Guinevere out of her bridal peignoir filling his mind. He pictured kissing every bit of her every graceful curve while professing his undying love for her. In bed, he'd do whatever she desired, whatever she needed. And if she hurt, if the act of losing her virginity pained her, Arthur would kiss away her tears. He was hers.

On their wedding night, Arthur would have been gentle with his new bride. After all, they had a lifetime to try new things when it came to sex.

When dawn crept in after that long, painful night, Arthur had seen an image of a pregnant, smiling Guinevere standing before the window clad in her cream-colored nightdress, her hands resting on her rounded belly. The image disappeared. Then another vision filled his thoughts, one where he and Guinevere stood in the Great Hall before everyone at their child's naming ceremony. Somehow, he knew it was a boy. Yet in a flash, that vision dissolved, too.

Guinevere had stolen Arthur's happy future with one thoughtless act, and that enraged him. And broke his heart.

That night, the king had wept.

Arthur forced his mind back to the present. He loved Guinevere and he wanted to forgive her, wanted her back. If he saw her, no, _when_ , could he truly find forgiveness in his heart? Then again, none of that mattered if he didn't find her. Perhaps he should consult a sorcerer for help… No. That wouldn't do. Involving more people and relying on magic wasn't the answer. He'd created this mess and he needed to fix it on his own.

Arthur peered up at the bright stars shining in the spring sky. He needed to return home, clear his head, and regroup. He'd search for Guinevere again tomorrow.

"Gwen?" he whispered into the dark. "Did you really love me as you said you did? I love you still."

Arthur rose to his feet, but before he took a step, he heard a twig snap nearby, then another. The footfalls were too heavy to be an animal. Someone had followed him.

"Show yourself!" Arthur demanded, unsheathing his sword and pointing it in the direction from which the sound originated.

Merlin stepped out of the shadows holding up his hands. "It's just me, sire."

Arthur lowered and sheathed his weapon, and did his best to stifle a moan of relief. "Merlin, what are you doing out here?"

"I might ask you the same."

"I am the king, Merlin, and if I want to wander about the woods, regardless of the hour, I don't have to explain myself to anyone, certainly not you."

"Oh." Merlin's sounded somber. "I thought you might need my help."

Arthur groaned. Merlin always meant well. He shouldn't snap at his servant. If anyone deserved the truth, it was Merlin. "The truth is, I was looking for Guinevere."

"At night? In the forest with no aid?"

"I know. Not my most brilliant idea." Thick tears clogged Arthur's throat. "I just miss Gwen so much it's killing me…"

Much to his horror, Arthur broke down into sobs. Merlin stepped forth and embraced the king. And there King Arthur stood, weeping in his friend's arms. Merlin said nothing, did nothing other than hold Arthur while the man wept.

"I am so ashamed of myself," hiccoughed Arthur, wiping away a tear. "I hurt Mithian, lost the love of my life… It all seems so unreal… I still cannot believe everything fell apart."

"It'll be all right Arthur, I promise," murmured Merlin in a soothing voice.

Arthur took a moment to gather himself. He cleared his throat and pulled away. "I'm sorry for that display, Merlin. It won't happen again."

Merlin gave a half-smile. "It's all right, sire."

"And if you tell anyone…" Arthur jabbed his finger in Merlin's direction.

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'm loyal to you, Arthur, and I always will be."

Arthur had no response. He worried if he spoke again, he'd fall apart. Better to remain quiet. The king valued Merlin's support and friendship above all others, but to break down in front of another man was embarrassing, even if that man was Merlin.

Thus, the two men ambled home in silence.


	11. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Hello, readers! I am so honored that you’ve stuck with me. 
> 
> Here we are a chapter eleven, and yes, Guinevere is back! We shall spend a little time in the forest, Ealdor, and finally, back in Camelot. 
> 
> A big welcome to Romantic Journalist, and again, thank you all for reviewing, following, or just plain reading. It’s been a really fun journey, and I appreciate that you’ve taken it with me. And hey, we still have a few more weeks together.

**Chapter Eleven – Reunited**

It was night time, and by the faint glow of a single rushlight, Arthur woke. He lay on a rickety, cramped cot with unbearable pain in his side, moaning, his ribs feeling as if a herd of wild horses had trampled them.

So much had transpired since he'd sent Mithian home several weeks prior, and since that night he'd wept in the forest in front of Merlin. He paused to think about all that transpired as sharp discomfort squeezed his chest.

XXXX

Several days ago – during the Feast of Beltane – Morgana and her Southron army seized Camelot. Arthur had been wounded during the battle with her soldiers, and woke up in an unfamiliar location in the woods with Merlin standing at his side. The king had been dressed like a village idiot, and found himself in the company of smugglers. When Arthur demanded explanations from Merlin, the servant provided vague answers about how Arthur passed out after his battle wound, and Merlin had sneaked the king out of Camelot and into the forest.

"We just ran into this group," said Merlin with a shrug. "It's a good thing, because no one will suspect King Arthur's running around with this lot."

"And why am I wearing these ridiculous clothes?" the king asked. He fingered the short, filthy tunic that clung to his body. And damn, the garment reeked.

"I had to pass you off as a simpleton for your safety and mine. If they knew who you were…"

Merlin's entire story sounded ludicrous and far-fetched to the king, and Merlin shifted about as he spoke. Something niggled at the back of Arthur's mind that Merlin was purposely withholding important information, but he didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts. And before the king knew it, he, Merlin, and the band of smugglers were under attack by Morgana's Southron supporters. A wayward crossbow missed Arthur's face by a hair.

During the attack, Arthur had no choice but to reveal his true identity to the smugglers' leaders, lovers named Tristan and Isolde. Arthur saved Isolde's life during the ambush, but her injuries were significant and she needed rest and treatment. Tristan grudgingly agreed to accompany Arthur and Merlin to Merlin's home village of Ealdor, so a wounded Isolde could get much-needed medicine. And in truth, Arthur needed his injured ribs tended to as well, thanks to a Southron's fierce mace blow. The group moved along slowly and cautiously through the dense forest and made it to Ealdor in half a day.

XXXX

So as a result of the attack in the woods, there lay Arthur, late at night, in a small cot in the village of Ealdor, his eyes squeezed shut and his bruised and broken ribs killing him. The simple act of breathing hurt.

To cope with the physical agony of his injury and the emotional turmoil of having lost his kingdom to Morgana, he allowed his thoughts to drift to Guinevere. But those thoughts brought on a different kind of suffering – the misery of loss and loneliness. After weeks of searching the Darkling Woods and beyond, he _still_ had not found the woman.

Consumed by his thoughts and overwhelmed by pain, Arthur scarcely realized someone sat on his cot and dressed his injury. He opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow, taking in the unbelievable, and beautiful, vision before him.

"Guinevere," he breathed, his eyes wide. Clad in a rumpled, faded tunic and a man's trousers, her dark hair held back in a long, loose braid, she was still the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen.

She gave a halfhearted smile and her eyes filled with tears. "Hello, Arthur."

At a loss for words, Arthur reached out, and ignoring his searing side pain, he embraced Guinevere and held onto her with every bit of strength he had left. Holding her in his arms again, even if it was just for that moment, made him feel whole once more. Gods, how he'd missed her.

Yet Arthur's feelings changed during the next many days.

Forced to flee the village of Ealdor because Morgana's Southrons had found them, Arthur, Merlin, Guinevere, Tristan, and Isolde went into hiding deep in the woods. And with each passing moment, Arthur became angrier and angrier at Guinevere. Her touch back in Ealdor had been a soothing balm for his wounded soul, but the more he thought about her betrayal with Lancelot, the more upset and less forgiving he became. And the fact that Tristan taunted him mercilessly about being a weak and ineffective king wasn't helping matters, either. After one of Tristan's many relentless gibes, Arthur stormed off to collect firewood and Guinevere followed.

"Arthur…" she said, approaching and touching his arm.

The king yanked away his arm as if he'd been burned. "Don't! What happened back in Ealdor, that was a moment of weakness. What you did to me, your betrayal, it changed everything between us. Everything good about what we had together is gone. I can hardly look upon you without feeling sick. I can never forgive you."

Guinevere nodded, tearful. "I don't blame you for despising me. I'm… I'm so sorry." She all but ran back to the campfire.

Arthur turned his back to her. How was it possible to feel such intense love and hate at the same time?

XXXX

Arthur largely ignored Guinevere's presence during the next several days. This was the right thing to do, because at the moment, he had one goal – to take back Camelot from Morgana.

Merlin had somehow located Arthur's trusted knights and a few hundred of Camelot's citizens who had been in hiding in a different area of the forest after Morgana's takeover. And in front of his people, unbelievably, Arthur had been able to pull a sword stuck fast in a massive stone. It made no sense that he'd been able to complete this impossible task, yet with Merlin's encouragement, Arthur removed the weapon from solid stone. And a damn fine weapon it was.

This whole situation was yet but another odd occurrence in which Merlin was involved, but once more, Arthur pushed those thoughts and concerns aside as he concentrated on winning back the kingdom for his people.

After Arthur spoke to his knights and people about his plans for ousting Morgana and winning back the kingdom of Camelot, Tristan approached him.

"You're different," said Tristan slowly and with a measure of hesitation. "I have never known a king like you, one who cares for his people more than he cares for glory and riches. I see how you love your knights and subjects and they love you in return. Isolde and I would be honored to help you fight for your kingdom."

Arthur grasped Tristan's shoulder. "I would be honored to have the two of you at my side."

The king glanced over at Guinevere and Isolde, who were deep in conversation as they sharpened swords. He wondered what they were discussing; probably the upcoming strike on Morgana and her men.

At nightfall, joined by his small army of citizens, knights, Merlin, Guinevere, Tristan, and Isolde, King Arthur stormed the castle in an effort to rip Morgana from the throne. Arthur knew this would be a fight to the death; he'd either take back Camelot or die trying.

As he and his supporters fought their way through the castle halls to the council chamber where Morgana sat upon the throne, Arthur thought briefly of Mithian, but mostly of Guinevere. Even though Guinevere's betrayal had wounded him, he loved her still. Perhaps her kissing Lancelot _had_ been a one-time mistake she regretted, as she'd said on the day of her banishment. He took a moment to chastise himself for not telling her he still loved her, for sending her away in the woods the other day. Arthur then realized that he wanted, _needed_ another chance with Guinevere.

 _If_ she'd have him.

 _If_ he survived.

At last, Arthur, Tristan, and Isolde made their way to Morgana in the castle's Council Chamber while Guinevere and Merlin were engaged in fighting elsewhere. The group burst into the room and faced the High Priestess and her ruthless warriors. Arthur took on Morgana's lead henchman, Helios. And Arthur was losing.

During the fierce confrontation, when Arthur ended up down on his knees, about to be slaughtered by Helios's sword, his most painful regret was never having had the chance to tell Guinevere he loved her one last time.

 _I'm sorry, my love_ , he thought, as he prepared to receive Helios's final, deadly sword blow. _I wish you knew how much I love you. I would give up anything for one more day with you at my side._

Yet death did not come.

The brave and daring Isolde stepped forth and slew Helios, saving Arthur's life. Yet in Helios's dying collapse, the man swung his blade one last time, mortally wounding Isolde. The woman dropped her weapon and fell to her knees, eyes wide with shock. She died moments later in her devastated lover's arms. Tristan kissed Isolde as she breathed her last.

 


	12. What Will She Choose?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – All right, faithful readers, during chapter twelve, Arthur and Guinevere will have the BIG talk, but they may not come to a resolution just yet about their relationship. Difficult moments lie ahead for our couple! Guinevere's not going to fall right into Arthur's arms and tell him everything is fine…he's going to have to work for her love. :)
> 
> And I know I say this each week, but I appreciate you, my followers, readers, and reviewers, more than you know!

Chapter Twelve – What Will She Choose?

The following morning, Arthur finally allowed glorious relief to wash over him. Morgana had disappeared right after the confrontation yesterday, and her men lay dead or captured. Arthur took the throne once more, and his knights and subjects were delighted their young ruler was back where he belonged.

After a long night of searching for Morgana (who was nowhere to be found), assessing damage to the castle and city, and helping injured and displaced people, Arthur decided to return to his quarters for a nice, solid nap. He knew the room was probably in a shambles, but as long as the door closed and he found one decent blanket and perhaps a pillow, he'd get some much needed rest. Later, he would pay tribute to Isolde, but for the moment, his body demanded sleep.

Arthur rubbed his tired eyes as he entered his quarters, but stopped short when he saw Guinevere straightening his wrecked room, bending over and picking up pieces of a broken pot from his floor. Yesterday, right after Isolde's death, he'd taken a moment to ask Guinevere to stay at the castle overnight, and told her he wanted to speak with her the next day. She agreed, but Arthur wasn't sure she actually listened; he was thrilled she had.

At the sight of his precious Guinevere standing so close, Arthur no longer felt bone-weary. Love and contentment filled him as opposed to exhaustion. He had to tell her how much he loved her, and that he'd forgiven her transgression. He only hoped she'd forgive his.

"Guinevere…"

Guinevere started and spun around to face the king. "You don't have to say anything." Tears ran down her cheeks and her lower lip trembled.

Arthur took a tentative step toward her. He wanted to comfort her so badly. "I don't care about what happened with Lancelot… any of it. That was the past and it's forgiven, and as you said, it was a one-time mistake you regret. I swear, I love you and I can't bear the thought of losing you again." He took a few more steps forward until he was within arm's length of Guinevere. "I beg you to forgive me for sending you away. I want you back, Guinevere. As my wife."

"Oh, Arthur," she wept. "I've wanted that with all my heart."

The king took a final step forward and drew Guinevere into a fierce embrace, his own tears flowing. He was terrified of what Guinevere might say about his next words, but she deserved the truth before she made the decision whether or not she was to be his wife and queen.

"Guinevere, before you decide if you truly want to marry me –"

"Nothing could change my mind about that, Arthur…"

"No, please hear me out," he insisted, stepping back and taking her hand, leading her to the one un-wrecked chair in the chamber. She sat, a wary look on her face, while Arthur leaned against the damaged dining table, still holding her hand.

"Some time after I banished you" – saying those words made Arthur's heart ache with misery – "I entered into an engagement with another woman. Princess Mithian of Nemeth."

"I see. Did you love her?"

"No," said Arthur. "I never loved her. I never stopped loving _you_. But I thought you were gone forever and I was to marry this woman. So one night…" he blew out a long, nervous breath "…I went to bed with her. It was only that one night, and right away, I knew couldn't marry her because I was still deeply in love with you."

Guinevere dropped Arthur's hand and broke down into sobs. Arthur didn't know what else to do, so he rubbed Guinevere's back and whispered how sorry he was again. After a few moments, Guinevere had gotten control of herself.

"I understand," she told the king in a shaky voice. "And I'm not angry, nor do I blame you, especially not after what I did. It just hurts to think she was your first and I wasn't, that's all."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Guinevere closed her eyes and a single tear slipped down her cheek. "Is there any chance she could be carrying your child?"

"No. None."

"And did you… did you like it? With her?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guinevere, please…"

"I need you to answer me, Arthur," she begged. "I must know."

Gods, what was he to say? He took a deep breath. The truth. He would tell the truth. Not the whole thing, because the details of how Arthur had bedded Mithian more than once that night wasn't something Guinevere needed to hear.

"It felt good, physically." Guinevere gave a choked sob in response to that statement as Arthur rubbed her back with care once again. "But I couldn't stop thinking of you and how much I wanted it to be you there instead. Right then, I knew I had to call off the wedding because even if I never saw you again, Guinevere, my heart was and will always be yours. That may not ease your pain, but it's the truth."

Guinevere finished sobbing. "Again, I'm not angry. I'm just so jealous I feel as if I might be sick." She drew in a sharp breath and stood. "Would it be all right if I remained here in Camelot for a few days so I can think? I need some time before I made a decision…"

"I want you to stay and never leave."

Guinevere nodded. "Does anyone live in my old cottage? I'd like to stay there."

"It's all yours. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone living there after you'd gone." He shook his head. "No, not after you'd gone… after I'd sent you away. Banished you. It's time for me to own up to the fact I sent you away wrongly. And it was wrong. It was a decision I will forever regret."

Arthur grabbed Guinevere's hand as she turned to leave his chamber. "I love you. I always have and I always will." Arthur pulled her toward him and pressed a long, hard kiss to Guinevere's lips. "Whenever you're ready to tell me your decision, I'll be here, waiting. You already know my decision. I want _you_."

XXXX

During a serene, pink spring sunset, Arthur held a warrior's funeral for Isolde at the edge of the castle's vast training field. All of Camelot's citizens turned up, yet Tristan was missing. After Isolde's death, Tristan walked straight out of the castle. Shoulders slumped and face pale, Tristan appeared shattered as he strode away. Arthur had a feeling the man would never be seen or heard from again.

Arthur spoke eloquent words during the ceremony, paying tribute to Isolde's bravery and sacrifice. He made sure everyone knew she was the one who saved his life, and she would be honored for such bravery now and forevermore. Although Tristan wasn't present, Arthur further thanked the man for his sacrifice and lamented the fact that Tristan had lost his great love.

"Tristan, wherever you are now, know that your sacrifice, and Isolde's, will be remembered from this day forward. Thoughts of you two will remain in my heart for all the days of my life. I can never thank you two enough. From the depths of my heart, I honor you."

With those final words, Arthur lit Isolde's funeral pyre with his torch. Some people departed right then, others stayed for an hour. But Arthur stood vigil for hours, well into the night, until Isolde had been returned to the earth as ash and every last piece of wood from her pyre had burned down. He bore witness, as did his most trusted knights, Sir Leon, Sir Elyan, Sir Percival, and Sir Gwaine. Of course, Guinevere had remained.

When the last ember died out – leaving nothing behind but remnants of charred, powdery wood – a fierce wind blew on the otherwise calm night. Arthur turned to face the blast of air and felt Isolde's presence for a mere instant. He asked her for strength, and the wind ceased.

Then Guinevere stepped forward. She leaned down and placed a single, pure-white white rose upon Isolde's ashes.

"Thank you, precious woman," whispered Guinevere. "For everything. I hope to see you again one day. Until then, rest in peace, beautiful and brave Isolde."

Arthur's heart near broke at those words, and he wanted to rush forth and gather Guinevere into his arms, yet he resisted. He had to let Guinevere come to him in her own time.

She did not come to him that night. Soon, he hoped. He prayed.


	13. Supper with Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Well, wonderful readers, we have one more chapter to go and then the epilogue! This has all gone much faster than I expected.
> 
> During this chapter, Arthur frets and Merlin dispenses his wisdom over supper. This leads up to chapter fourteen, when Arthur and Guinevere make some difficult decisions about their relationship.
> 
> Without further ado…

Chapter Thirteen – Supper with Merlin

Each day that Guinevere didn't come to Arthur, the king worried. What started out as a smoldering flame of concern had now erupted into a full-fledged fire torturing his mind and soul.

 _Maybe's she's left_ , he fretted. _Perhaps she can't handle what I did and she's gone for good this time_. _That's it. There's no undoing it now; she's lost to me. If this is truly the end of us…_

But each night, he'd sneak by Guinevere's modest cottage, and when he'd peek through her window and see soft candlelight illuminating the home's interior, he'd breathe a quiet sigh of relief. She was still there. As long as she remained in Camelot, hope existed.

Five days after Arthur had told Guinevere he still loved her and wanted her has his wife, yet she still hadn't told him how she felt, Arthur felt like tearing his hair out with worry. He had no idea if he should throw himself at her feet and beg or wait her out. There was only one person who could handle the king while he was in such distress – Merlin.

"Have supper with me tonight," Arthur all but demanded of Merlin, as the servant collected dirty clothing from the floor of Arthur's quarters that afternoon.

"This is something new," said Merlin with a wry grin.

"Don't harass me, Merlin!" barked Arthur, pacing the floor from bed to window. "I need some honest advice and help, and you're the only person in the kingdom who's willing to provide that. Anyone else will look at me with sad eyes and try to placate me, and I can't take it. See me later for supper, here in my quarters. All right?"

"Certainly. But do _I_ have to bring the supper, or will there be –"

Arthur stomped toward Merlin and gave the man a light shove, urging him from the room. The king wasn't angry, but he didn't have the patience for Merlin's brand of flighty humor at the moment.

"I don't care who brings it or what we eat! Just… just see to it that someone brings food, will you?"

"Of course, my lord," said Merlin with an exaggerated bow and half-grin.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and held up his pointer finger. "Do not make me regret this."

Merlin adjusted the load of laundry he carried in his arms and met the king's eye. "I'm honored that you trust me, sire."

Arthur softened. "Yes, well… forgive my bad temper. I'll see you at sunset."

XXXX

Right at sunset, Merlin turned up at Arthur's chamber with two other servants behind him. Arthur motioned for Merlin to take a seat at the dining table next to him, and the servants presented a mouth-watering meal of roast carp in a wine and butter sauce, honey bread, and spiced carrot pudding. A large pitcher of mead and two tall tankards sat in the middle the table. The moment the servants left the chamber with a bow, Merlin groaned with delight and leaned forward to sniff the delicious aromas wafting from the steaming plates of food before him.

Arthur wrinkled his brow in reaction to Merlin's response to the meal. "Merlin, it's just supper. It's not as if you don't eat regular meals. Sometimes, you act as if you're starved and beaten, which is hardly the case. Is such drama necessary?"

Merlin held up a hand. "Wait, please allow me to savor this moment." The servant closed his eyes and gave another exaggerated sniff. "Yes, I eat, but not this well. Ah, the scent of warm honey bread…"

"Please, this is a touch ridiculous… Oh, all right, just dig in."

The two men dined and drank in quiet until Arthur was ready to talk.

"I don't know why this is, Merlin, but it seems as if you're the lone person in the kingdom who will tell me the uncensored truth," said Arthur, sitting back in his seat after swallowing a bite of tender, flaky carp. "That's why I'm turning to you."

Merlin took a long slug of mead and grinned at the king. "Now that I have a full belly, I'm ready to dispense my infinite wisdom."

The king rolled his eyes. "I'll get right to the point. As you know, Guinevere's been back home for five days –"

"Of course I know that. I've been visiting her every day."

"You have? You've seen her?" asked the king with surprise, dropping his cutlery onto the table with a clatter. "Does she look well? I hope she's getting enough rest. What has she been saying? Has she said anything about me? Is she staying here? Does she want me back? Does she forgive me for banishing her? For bedding Mithian? You must tell me!"

Merlin raised his brows. "I don't have to tell you a thing. Guinevere's been my friend for years, too. I won't betray her confidence."

"You're right, you're right," said Arthur, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands. "This is difficult for me to say out loud, but I'll say it regardless: You're my closest friend. Maddening sometimes, and exasperating, but loyal and true. Just tell me what I should do."

"All right, I'll tell you. But first, tell me why Guinevere should return to you."

"Because I love her. I love her more than anything."

"That's a good start," said Merlin. "But have you forgiven her? Truly forgiven her for what happened with Lancelot?"

Arthur played with his food before giving an answer. "Yes. The truth is it still hurts sometimes, but I have forgiven her."

"And yourself? Have you forgiven yourself?"

"Merlin, how many questions do I have to answer?"

Merlin folded his arms over his chest and waited. Recognizing Merlin wasn't about to back off, Arthur sighed.

"Sometimes I can forgive myself. Other times, no."

"But you're trying," said Merlin with a subtle nod of his head. "I can see that.

"Fine, one last question: Did you come right out and ask Guinevere to marry you again?"

Arthur thought hard about this question. Yes, he had. Hadn't he? He'd said something about wanting her as his wife again, about loving her more than anything…wanting her to stay. But had he come right out and asked? He realized he hadn't.

"No. I thought I had, but I suppose I didn't. I was too wrapped up in my worry about confessing that I'd had sex with Mithian to think about anything else."

Merlin nodded. "I won't tell you the details of what Guinevere said, but she's hurting over your time with the princess. Still, you need to go to Guinevere, tonight. Don't wait for her to come to you any longer. The two of you have had enough time apart. Now is the time to act."

"Yes, I agree," said Arthur, rising from his seat. "I've hated this waiting and my gut told me to go to her. But hearing you say it now, I know it's the right thing to do. No more stalling and worrying." He fingered Guinevere's engagement ring, which he'd worn around his neck on a leather tie since the day Mithian had left the kingdom. "I appreciate your help, Merlin. Perhaps we should dine together more often."

"That sounds good to me. This carrot pudding his fantastic!" he beamed, diving back into the sweet dish, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. "So delicious," Merlin mumbled while chewing.

With a low chuckle, Arthur rushed from his chamber for Guinevere's, sans cloak.


	14. Guinevere's Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Last chapter before the epilogue, folks! Thank you SO much for reading. I am so honored chose to read this story. 
> 
> And now, Arthur faces Guinevere!

Chapter Fourteen – Guinevere's Decision

The night was crisp, as nights tended to be in Camelot, even during the warmer months. But Arthur didn't feel the prickle of cool air upon his skin as he rushed toward Guinevere's cottage. Yet as he closed in on his love's home, he was halted by a sharp command.

"Stop right there!" called out a man's authoritative voice. The scraping sound of a sword being unsheathed followed the order. "Turn and show yourself."

Arthur would recognize that voice – strong and clear, but with a hint of mirth – anywhere. It was Sir Gwaine. Arthur held up his hands and turned to face the man who was his loyal knight and good friend.

"Sire, I'm sorry," said Gwaine the moment he recognized the king, sheathing his weapon without hesitation. "It's dark and I had no idea it was you. At your request, we're being extra careful checking people who move about after sunset. Can't be too careful these days… Can I, ah, escort you to wherever you're going?"

"Please," said Arthur with a laugh. "You know where I'm going."

"In that case, do you need any pointers before you visit her?" Gwaine winked.

The king couldn't help but chuckle at his devoted friend. "No, I believe I'm all set there, thanks to your previous detailed teachings. Goodnight, Gwaine."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

Arthur turned to walk away.

"Wait, Sire." Gwaine pumped a gloved fist in the air. "Go get her!"

With a laugh, Arthur strode away, and moments later, he stood in front of Guinevere's front door. He didn't hesitate at all; he knocked decisively. Guinevere answered, clad in a casual blue dress and a light matching wrap, her wavy hair pinned up in a careless twist, but she looked beautiful, as always. Yet her eyes appeared tired with purple shadows beneath them. She hadn't been sleeping. Arthur didn't blame her – neither had he.

"Arthur?" She sounded shocked to see him standing in her doorway.

He didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped right inside, pulled Guinevere into his arms, and pressed his lips against hers. She didn't resist. When Arthur felt her soften against him, he eased his tongue into her mouth and all but devoured her with a hungry kiss filled with passion and desire. Guinevere pressed her body against his and let out a soft sigh in the middle of the unrestrained kiss. That's when Arthur pulled his head back.

"I have so much I need to say to you," said Arthur. "But first, there's this."

The king took a knee before Guinevere and slipped her old engagement ring off the tie around his neck. He held out the ring before him. "Guinevere, I now know that there is nothing in this world that could stop me from loving you, from wanting you as my wife for now and forever. I ask you from the bottom of my heart, will you marry me?"

Guinevere closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Arthur's heart felt as if it had dropped into his stomach. Was she about to reject him? Inform him that she was leaving the kingdom for good? Perhaps she couldn't get past Arthur's night with Mithian. Or maybe she had come to realize she hated him for banishing her with such haste. Maybe asking for another chance was too much. Still, he held out the ring, waiting. Moments later, Guinevere's gentle hand pressed against his cheek.

"I want to marry you, Arthur, with all my heart. My answer is yes."

Arthur leapt up and gave Guinevere a brief but intense kiss, then eased the engagement ring onto her finger. "The ring's back home, where it belongs," said Arthur. "And where it will remain always. I found it in the forest during the Hunt of Ostara; do you have any idea how it ended up there?"

"No," said Guinevere, but her eyes had a faraway look as she spoke. "It must have somehow fallen off when I left Camelot."

Arthur asked no further questions about the ring; he sensed there was more, much more, but Guinevere seemed unwilling or unable to say anything further. Perhaps it was for the best. While openness and honesty were crucial to healing, some things were better left unsaid. Meanwhile, Guinevere embraced him again.

"This won't be an easy path for us," she warned, holding Arthur. "When I pictured you making love to another woman, I didn't know if I could live with that. But the thought of living out the rest of my days without your love and closeness was far more painful." Guinevere took a step back and met Arthur's eye with a tear in her own. "But I want to put our mistakes in the past. Our jealousy, our anger, and bitterness. All of it. Can we do that?"

"Yes," answered Arthur honestly, gazing at Guinevere with intense love and longing. "Jealousy and frustration may rear their ugly heads from time to time, but if we allow love and truth to guide us, I know we can have a rich and wonderful life together. What do you say?"

After a moment of silence, Guinevere said, "Let's have our wedding, then."

"Good. We'll marry the day after tomorrow."

"What?" squeaked Guinevere with surprise. "So soon? We need time to prepare."

"Oh, what do we need? You need a new dress? That's easy. I'm the king and I can compel people to do a rush job. I'll get you whatever help you need to prepare. Shall we have a seat and make plans, then?"

"Yes, but I need you to make me one promise," said Guinevere, her tone serious.

"Anything."

"When we're together, on our wedding night, I need you to promise you'll only think of me. While we're in bed," she explained. "Not… her. Can you make me that promise?"

Arthur took her hand once again. "That's an easy promise. You're the only woman I think about, and the only one I yearn for."

"I believe you."

"Good. But there's more. Before we wed and lie together for the first time, I want you to know that all is forgiven. My heart is open to you and you are the one and only woman I have ever loved, and the only woman I _will_ ever love."

"I forgive you as well. You no longer need to carry the guilt about banishing me. Banishment was difficult, but I learned a good deal during my time away. It strengthened me. And in the end, we found our way back to one another, and that's all that matters." Guinevere squeezed Arthur's hand. "And there's something else. I never loved Lancelot. I was infatuated with him, yes, but it was nothing like the love I feel for you. I don't know why I kissed him; I still can't explain it. All I know is when I did it, I didn't feel like myself and I knew I still loved you. Do you believe me, Arthur?"

Arthur met Guinevere's pleading gaze. "I do believe you, Gwen. But today, we start anew and put the past where it belongs. You and I will look forward, not back."

The worry dissolved from Guinevere's face. She stood on tip-toe and kissed Arthur's cheek. "To the future, then."

Arthur pulled Guinevere toward the scrubbed dining table. "Speaking of the near future, let's sit and make our wedding plans. I, for one, would like to serve roast capon…"

The couple then planned their future together, one likely to be filled with challenges and crises, but also love and joy.


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It had been a beautiful wedding in the castle's richly-decorated Great Hall. The servants had worked night and day adorning the space, and the Hall appeared as if it was an extension of the immense, verdant castle gardens, with thick garlands of greenery hanging on every bare inch of the walls, and huge baskets bursting with vibrant and fragrant flowers arranged carefully on pedestals which lined the aisle. Arthur and Guinevere had been surrounded by their closest friends, companions, and loyal knights. And about a thousand or so other guests.

During Guinevere's coronation – held directly after the wedding ceremony – an emotional Arthur caught sight of Merlin out of the corner of his eye. Right as the king placed the crown upon Guinevere's head and declared her to be undisputed Queen of Camelot, Merlin broke into a wide grin, and a single tear slipped down the servant's cheek. Arthur gave Merlin a subtle nod of acknowledgment. If it hadn't been for Merlin's ongoing support and honest advice, Arthur and Guinevere might never have gotten back together. Arthur owed Merlin a great debt, and he knew it. One day, the king would show his appreciation to his loyal manservant and friend. One day, Arthur would thank the man for all he had done.

After a long day and night of feasting and celebrating their nuptials, Arthur and Guinevere retired to their now-shared bedchamber, but they were not alone. Merlin, Sir Gwaine, Sir Percival, and Sir Leon were present, as was the wedding officiant, the elderly Geoffrey of Monmouth. Several young maids with whom Guinevere was friendly stood by the bedside also, giggling with nerves and excitement. It was time for the bedding ceremony.

"I hope Geoffrey keeps it brief," muttered Gwaine to Percival. "If I were Arthur, I'd want to get right to it. No one wants to hear a long-winded speech right now…"

"May I have quiet, please?" requested a stern Geoffrey. The room fell silent, and the officiant cleared his throat and blessed the bed.

"May our King and Queen of Camelot be blessed with a long and loving marriage. May their union bring them exquisite joy, and fill their souls with love and their home with many healthy children. Bless this bed and the couple readying to enter it. May they know peace, patience, and love for all their days.

"What say you, knights and ladies?"

"Bless Arthur and Guinevere, King and Queen of Camelot!" chorused the attendees.

Geoffrey of Monmouth turned to face Gwaine. "Was that succinct enough for you, young man?"

Gwaine's face turned a fiery shade of dark red, and everyone present burst out laughing, even the king and queen.

Next, the women stepped forth and threw flower petals onto the bed, while the knights shouted out bawdy suggestions to Arthur about how he could "best use" his bed. After many hugs and kisses of congratulations, the guests departed. Merlin stood at the back of the group and was just about to close the bedchamber door behind him.

"Wait!" called out Guinevere.

She took Arthur's hand and stepped toward Merlin. The king and queen drew Merlin back into the room for a moment, and nearly crushed the man in a hug.

"Thank you for all you've done to bring us back together," said Guinevere into Merlin's ear. "If not for you, this day wouldn't have been possible."

The king and queen released Merlin from the tight embrace.

Merlin grinned at his friends and shrugged. "It's as it should be. You two belong together. I've always known it. I think you've always known it, too."

With a bow, Merlin left the room.

After spending some time recalling the events of their splendid wedding day, Arthur and Guinevere prepared for bed. While Arthur turned his back and fumbled with his boots, Guinevere had begun to unlace the front of her delicate bridal peignoir. By the time Arthur turned, Guinevere's clothing lay at her feet in a silky puddle. She stood before Arthur with a serene smile on her face, naked and breathtaking. It took Arthur a few moments to find the right words.

"You know, when you were a servant, I used to watch closely when you bent forward so I could catch a glimpse of your cleavage. Not proper, I know, but I couldn't help it. But now, I never have to hide my admiration again. I am so lucky. And you are tremendously beautiful."

No more words were exchanged. Arthur peeled off every last stitch of clothing and rushed into Guinevere's arms. She pressed a soft kiss to one corner of Arthur's mouth, then the other. His lips parted, and Guinevere nipped at Arthur's lower lip. They toppled into bed together.

When Arthur eased into his beautiful queen with a careful push, he felt as if he'd been struck by lightning – their connection was immediate and consuming. Arthur didn't think it was possible, but in that instant, he loved Guinevere even more, and knew his love for her would grow with each passing day. The king moved slowly within his new bride, caring for her comfort, but savoring the exquisite sensations of their long-awaited consummation.

"How do you feel?" asked Arthur, still moving in and out of Guinevere slowly. "Are you hurting?"

"No," she whispered. "The pain's gone. Just pleasure now."

Arthur leaned down and nibbled Guinevere's ear as she sighed and tightened against him. This was bliss, pure bliss for Arthur. But he cupped Guinevere's face as he thrust with more urgency.

"Do you feel it, too?" he asked tenderly.

With tears of joy in her eyes, a smiling Guinevere gazed up at Arthur. "I do."

They both felt it. Theirs was a joining of not only bodies, but a joining of souls, a rare and magical thing. Arthur and Guinevere knew their lives would be filled with challenges and trials, but they'd face them together, as one. Their bond was strong and nothing could sever it again.

XXXX

Four years later, Guinevere gave birth to Arthur's son, a happy and healthy baby named Llacheu. Two years after that, the king and queen's second cherished son, Amr, was born. The biggest surprise was Guinevere's third pregnancy, five years after Amr's birth. The king and queen were convinced Amr would be their last child, and were overjoyed Arthur and Guinevere had a little girl, Wenda. The husband and wife now had the loving family they'd always dreamed of.

Eighteen years after Llacheu's birth, Arthur and Guinevere became grandparents for the first time. In the end, they had nine grandchildren upon whom they doted.

Life was kind to the King and Queen of Camelot, and their love stood the test of time. As Arthur had known it would.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for joining me on this adventure! I love happy endings and feel that Arthur and Guinevere deserve theirs. I've known many loving couples who have endured hardships and came out the other side of the experience stronger, and Arthur and Guinevere are no exception. And in my heart and mind, their legacy, their children, live on!


End file.
